


what have you done to me lately?

by reylonly



Category: Burn This (Broadway), Burn This - Wilson, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Size Difference, horny dancer meets big disaster man, i saw burn this on broadway and then this happened, rey speaks her fantasy into existence, they both just need a hug ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-05-13 06:55:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19246102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reylonly/pseuds/reylonly
Summary: The man doesn’t look accusatory, or call her out for being a voyeur, or anything like that. Instead, he stares right back. Like a challenge.You gonna look away first, she can almost hear him ask,or am I?***A Burn This Reylo au





	1. Chapter 1

  

 

 

Rey turns out of her final pirouette and immediately collapses.

 

Dance class ended ages ago, but she’s stayed at the studio for a while after her students left. She needed to blow off some steam.   

 

As the only instructor willing to pick up Robbie’s hours, Rey’s had a lot of late nights recently. She doesn’t regret taking on the extra classes, not necessarily. It makes sense. Rey loves teaching dance, and she needs the pay.

 

It’s just a lot.

 

She slips on her old sneakers before letting her hair out of a loose bun. It fans out past her shoulders, sticking to the sweat on her skin. She grabs her jacket, intending to put it on, but decides against it. A jacket is the last thing she needs right now.

 

Rey feels like she’s on fire.

 

The streets are uncharacteristically quiet as she locks up the studio and heads for her apartment. Not for the first time, Rey finds herself thinking about Robbie.

 

She hadn’t known him well, but enough to be considered an acquaintance. He taught the class before hers on Wednesdays, and would always wait around to say hi and ask about her week.

 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Robbie would say with a smile. “How’re ya doin’?”

 

It would always make her day. And, _god_ , he was so talented. On another level.

 

Rey doesn’t have many people in her life. Maybe they weren’t close, but Robbie was always there. A constant.

 

And now he’s gone.

 

If it’s hard for her to process, she can’t imagine what his students are going through. Especially the toddlers from his tiny ballerina class.  

 

Now, it’s Rey’s tiny ballerina class.    

 

She really misses Robbie, she realizes, as the pedestrian crossing light turns green. Can you even miss someone you never really knew?    

 

Rey doesn’t know. She does know, however, that she needs to get to bed. Her first shift at the diner is tomorrow morning. Almost every cent she earns at the dance studio goes toward her tuition. What’s leftover is rarely enough to make rent on time, so she picked up a gig waiting tables. 

 

Rey sighs.

 

The crisp October air feels perfect on her skin. Soon it will be too cold for this. She’ll be forced to wear a jacket, with all of the snow New York gets in the winter. But for now, it’s freeing to go outside in just her leotard and tights.

 

Everything in Rey’s life is so structured.

 

She goes to school. She teaches at the studio. She does her homework. Starting tomorrow, she’ll spend her weekends at the diner. There’s hardly any room left to breathe.

 

Rey’s optimistic. She tells herself it’ll all be worth it. That she’ll have free time when she graduates next year.

 

But, as for right now, Rey’s respite comes in small acts of rebellion. Tiny things that don’t deviate far from her plan. Like spending an extra hour alone at the studio working on a passion project. Or refusing to wear her jacket outside. Harmless fun.

 

A block away from her apartment, Rey’s peaceful commute is disrupted by a loud shout.

 

“Hey, don’t fuckin’ grab it like that, what the _fuck_ are you thinkin’?”

 

Rey sees a man pummel toward a mover unloading boxes from a big truck across the street.

 

_That’s weird,_ Rey thinks. _Who moves at 11pm?_ Curious, she walks closer to listen in.  

 

“These are my fuckin’ bowls and shit. You break ‘em, what the fuck am I gonna eat my cereal out of, huh? You want me to eat right outta the red box with the little leprechaun on it? Fuck that. I’ll take it in myself.”

 

The man grabs the box from the mover, and, _oh._ Rey finally gets a good look at him. He’s really big.

 

The box fits between one of his arms and the side of his body. He doesn’t even need the other arm to lift it. In fact, he picks up a lamp and a side table too. All that must be heavy, but it doesn’t look heavy in his arms. It looks like dollhouse furniture in his arms. So he’s big _and_ strong. Huh.   

 

The man’s new building is one of the nicest in the area. Rey passes by it every day and wonders how many chandeliers are in the lobby. She bets five. _He must be really well off,_ she thinks.

 

Rey just stares. She stares at the man, who’s currently arguing with the mover, and she realizes that she should probably be annoyed by him. But she’s not annoyed. For some reason, Rey’s intrigued. She keeps looking at his arms, the long hair falling in his face. His legs. And, for a moment, she lets herself have a bit more harmless fun.  

 

She imagines that she’s moving in to the nice apartment with him. That the big and strong man is her loaded husband, and he’s worried about their fine china breaking because he knows it was a wedding gift. Rey’s upstairs, laying in their king size bed. It was the first thing he put together in their new apartment. Her man had insisted she stay inside, that he would do all the hard work for his baby, and that he’d come right back to her as soon as he was done unloading the truck.

 

_Wouldn’t that be nice,_ she thinks _._    

 

Rey’s about to keep moving when the man looks right at her and her heart _stops_. She chokes on nothing, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

 

The man doesn’t look accusatory, or call her out for being a voyeur, or anything like that. Instead, he stares right back. Like a challenge. _You gonna look away first,_ she can almost hear him ask, _or am I?_  

 

She wonders what he’s thinking. She wants to run away. Any longer and he will most definitely say something. The mover is yelling at him but he’s not even paying attention. He’s just watching her. And, against better judgement, she likes it.      

 

It’s too much. Rey quickly slips past the moving truck and speed walks the short distance to her own, substantially less-nice, apartment building on the next block. She doesn’t turn around to see if the man followed her, though she’s sure he didn’t.

 

Fumbling with her keys, she rushes inside her building and doesn’t breathe until she’s made it up to her small apartment on the fourth floor.

 

“Shit,” Rey says, leaning against the inside of her door, breathing heavy. “What was that?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

She didn’t mean for it to become a habit. She would never admit to it if asked. But Rey’s sort of obsessed with fantasizing about the man from the other night.

 

She went straight to bed after their encounter, intending to sleep the embarrassing memory away. That backfired, as she woke up from an _extremely_ vivid dream starring the man himself.

 

After three nights of waking up alone and frustrated, nothing to help her out but her own fingers, Rey realized that moving on from the moment with her mystery man might prove more difficult than she thought.

 

She keeps thinking about him.

 

Wonders about his life, his job. He looked older than her — lower to mid thirties, maybe. She’s not sure. But she knows that she’s _really_ into that. He’s not some college guy. He’s a man. He could support her. Make her feel safe. Secure.

 

Mostly, Rey wonders what she’d do if she ever saw him again.  

 

All this daydreaming isn’t getting in the way of her work, but it’s definitely Rey’s new distraction.

 

She was refilling someone’s coffee at the diner the other week when the door jingled. A group of men with accents like his walked in. They were loud and commanded the room’s attention, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for her to look over at them. If Rey’s curiosity had less to do with her annoyance and more to do with a certain man she couldn’t get out of her head, no one could tell. But that’s what it was. They sorta sounded like him. She wished they _were_ him.

 

She’s started looking for him in everyone.

 

In the dads who drop their little girls off for the tiny ballerina class. In the professors she passes in university hallways. In random men on subway platforms.

 

He’s all she can think about and she doesn’t even know his name.

 

One quiet Sunday as Rey mindlessly wipes down a table at the diner, midway through a fantasy, she decides it’s time for that to change. He needs a name. Something that fantasy Rey can scream. Something to make real Rey feel less insane.

 

_Ben,_ she chooses. _I’ll call him Ben._

 

Around midnight Rey’s boss Lando takes pity on her. No customers have come in over an hour. He tells her to go home for the night.

 

Rey is delighted. She’ll take a long shower to decompress, then go straight to bed.

 

As Rey walks out of the diner, completely drained and in need of a month’s worth of sleep, she collides with someone in a hurry. She falls right to the ground, her knees scraping concrete in the process. Whoever this is thoroughly knocked the wind out of her.  

 

“Oh shit, fuck. Fuck, I didn’t mean to — you alright?”

 

And _oh my god,_ she knows that voice. This can’t be happening. This time, it’s him. _It’s Ben._ As in, her mystery man. The person she’s been fantasising about for the past month. Ben just rammed right into her and now he’s offering her his hand and she can’t breathe _,_ let alone look at him.

 

But she has to be a normal functioning human this time. So, she musters up the courage to look up.

 

_Do you remember me?_ She wants to scream. _Do you ever think about that night?_

 

Rey takes Ben’s hand in her own and it feels so good. Perfect. His hand engulfs hers as he pulls her back up on her feet.

 

“It’s fine. I’m okay, thanks. All good.”

 

He’s still holding her hand. It’s warm and soft, but somehow also firm, and everything's _amazing_ until she feels — _oh._ Of course. The coolness of a band on his ring finger. He’s married.   

 

Rey lets go of his hand.

 

Ben looks through the window of the empty diner.

 

“What’re you doin’ here so fuckin’ late at night?” He asks.

 

“Oh. Uh, I work here.”

 

It’s silent as Ben processes this. His eyes move back to focus on her, and Rey clears her throat.

 

“Well, have a good night,” she says.

 

It’s deja vu, the way Rey begins to scurry home to her apartment and away from him.

 

“You got a coat on this time,” he calls after her.

 

Rey stops in her tracks. Not breathing.

 

“Yeah. I do.”

 

“Good. It’s cold as shit.”

 

Rey thinks he’s done, but then he continues,

 

“You know, before, when you were in the little leotard — remember that night? You were carrying a coat. You had one, but you didn’t fucking put it on. It was in your hands. It woulda been so _fucking easy_ to put a coat on but you just... _didn’t_. I mean, it’s not like your coat’s doin’ much but it’s doin’ something. It’s better than nothin’. God it drove me fuckin’ crazy. The whole night I was thinkin’ about your bare arms shivering in the fuckin’ cold. Jesus.”

 

He finishes though it looks like he has more to say.

 

“I’ve got my coat on now,” Rey whispers.

 

“Good.”

 

Ben turns and walks away, leaving Rey alone. Stunned. Despite herself, she shivers.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rey must be sick.

 

All she knows is that for the past day she’s thought of little other than Ben, and she’s not sorry about it. The ring on his finger should have scared her away. It should make her run for the hills. Instead, it only fuels her desire.

 

She’s been concocting a new fantasy all throughout her stressful day. After a chem test she’s sure she failed and three long hours of dance classes — Rey relaxes into her sheets, sneaks a hand down into her panties, closes her eyes, and lets herself drift off to the universe inside her head.     

 

_“Get on the bed,”_ Ben demands.

 

He shoves both his pants and boxers down to his knees right before jumping on top of her, unable to waste any more time undressing. Rey’s already naked. She’s been waiting for him. For hours.

 

“Sorry, kid. I couldn’t get away sooner,” he apologizes, kissing her sweet little tits.

 

Ben nudges his cock at her folds, circles around her entrance, teasing. Her wrists are pinned over her head, caged in his death grip. Rey keens, wanting nothing more than for him to be inside of her. “Need you,” Rey whines. Ben smirks.

 

“Do you?”

 

And with that, he sinks in. All the way. Rey _screams_.

 

“Fuck. Wish I met you first.” Ben thrusts hard in just the right spot and Rey moans.

 

“Yeah? You like that?”

 

He thrusts again, harder, and all she can do is whimper.

 

“Ah, you do. You really like that.”

 

There’s no stopping him as he pistons himself inside of her, drilling her to the bed.  

 

“You ever think about it? About being my wife instead of my mistress?”

 

She can’t think, let alone speak.

 

“Just know it doesn’t matter, whatever the fuck those papers say.”

 

He pulls all the way out and Rey’s suddenly _so empty_ , before he shoves himself so far inside that she swears she can feel him in her throat.

 

“There’s only us. That’s it. You’re all I think about, like this. When I come it’s for you. Every time. You.” He thrusts.

 

“You.” Thrusts again.

 

_“You.”_ This time he spills inside of her, fucking her through it all, until Rey falls apart and it’s so good, she feels _so good, how_ does he make her feel this good, it shouldn't be possible and now she’s opening her eyes from their near-blissed scrunched-up state and — _oh_.

 

She’s alone. Writhing on top of her bed. With three fingers shoved up her cunt.

 

Of course. Another fantasy. It felt so real this time and oh god, is she a bad person?

 

Because Ben’s ring doesn’t scare her. No. It turns her on. Being Ben’s mistress is without a doubt the hottest thing she’s ever imagined. So why does that word weigh so heavy on her mind? _Mistress._

 

It feels dirty. Like Rey’s some sort of pre-homewrecker.  

 

She shakes that thought away. A fantasy is just a fantasy, Rey decides. It’s not like she’ll act out on her desire anyway. As long as it stays inside her head, it isn’t real. It isn’t real. It’s not.

 

But still. The way he looked at her that night... _hmm._ Could he?

 

No. Rey doesn’t want to ruin someone’s family. Not when she would’ve killed for the chance to have one of her own.  

 

She’s just tired. She needs to get laid. _Maybe_ , Rey thinks as she brushes her teeth, _it’s time to move on_.

 

So Rey flirts with the guy who sits at the end of the row in her Monday lecture, the same one who’s been giving her moon eyes for a month. Poe, she learns.  

 

Poe is handsome and funny and would probably never scream at the movers unloading all of his belongings at 11pm. Poe would never even _think_ to attempt to move at 11pm. He’d probably make a color coded unloading schedule. And many lists. Probably.

 

Point is, Rey’s trying to move on. She really is. She lets Poe walk her to class. She even let him walk her home, once. They haven’t gone on a date. Rey doesn’t have time for that, and Poe gets it. Poe’s nice. Poe’s understanding.

 

But something’s missing.

 

It’s been almost a week since she ran into Ben. Six days. Not that she’s counting, or anything. No. She’s done.

 

In fact, if she even begins to go down that road, Rey gives herself a quick reminder.  

 

_There’s no way you’re anything more than a person he’s ran into a couple times on the street,_ she thinks. _Just forget about it_ — _about him_ — _all together._  

 

        

* * *

 

 

That girl musta done something to him. Voodoo or some shit. Because Pale’s not thinkin’ right, and he hasn’t been thinkin’ right since that night.

 

He was about to chew that fucker’s head off when he saw her.

 

She looked a good decade younger than him, standing over on the sidewalk wearing nothing more than a leotard and tights. _Fuck_ , he thought. _That’s trouble._

 

He didn’t move to Manhattan to find some girl. No, he moved to Manhattan to leave one behind.

 

He’s close enough to be able to see the kids every now and then, but far enough away to start over. Plus now he won’t have to drive all the way from Jersey to get to work.

 

He shouldn’t be thinking about that girl, it’s the last fuckin’ thing he needs. _Still._      

 

Pale has a good view of the street from his new apartment.

 

It’s quaint, for New York. It’s no Jersey by any means. But it’s the best fuckin’ street in this shithole of a city. Every other street’s dying of crotch rot. But not his. His street’s got a good deli. And trees. And, every morning and every night, his street’s got the girl in the leotard, comin’ and goin as she pleases. He watches each morning from his big window — waiting for her, using her as his marker to start the day. Soon as she walks by he’ll put away his cereal. She’s punctual. He likes that.

 

He waits at night too, sometimes with his hand inside his pants, palming himself and thinking about her. Her. The girl in the leotard.   

 

He wonders where she goes every day. Why she’s out so late every night. If she falls asleep as soon as she gets home, or if it takes her a while to drift off.   

 

Pale never sleeps, and that’s fine. Sure, he’s tired. But being awake is better.

 

Awake he can distract himself. Asleep he can’t control what could happen. Dreams. Nightmares. Stuff he hasn’t let himself confront yet.

 

One night he’s in a hurry, on his way home from putting out fires left and right at the restaurant, high off his ass. He’s running to make it home in enough time to sit at his window and watch the girl.

 

She’s not set to come by for another thirty minutes, and she’s never not on time, but he can’t help it. He wants to be ready.

 

So he’s running and running and running until _splat._ He collides with someone who’s just walked out of the diner a couple blocks away from his place.

 

“Oh shit, fuck. Fuck, I didn’t mean to — you alright?” He asks, offering his hand. Pale may be an asshole sometimes, but it’s the least he can do. Whoever this is had no idea he was in a rush to get home and jerk off.

 

He looks down at the person he pummeled, and holy fucking shit, it’s the girl.

 

His girl.  

 

He never wants to let go of her hand. He wants to ask her why the _fuck_ she’s ahead of schedule. He wants to throw her over his shoulder and take her home.

 

He doesn’t do any of that.

 

And as she stands and pulls her hand away, he has to restrain himself from tugging it back.  

 

She says something, but he can’t hear anything except his thoughts running a mile a second.

 

It’s then when he looks into the empty diner, and wonders aloud, “What’re you doin’ here so fuckin’ late at night?”

 

“Oh,” she says. Is she embarrassed?  “Uh, I work here.”

 

She works here. At this fuckin’ diner. A couple blocks from his apartment. Right here. This is where she’s at all the time. Well, _fuck._ Now he knows.

 

Pale doesn’t really remember the rest of the interaction. He knows he rambled on and hopefully it wasn’t too fucking weird.

 

He does remember, however, storming home and unbuttoning his pants, settling himself down on the couch. Pumping his cock tirelessly, picturing the girl. Imagining it was her cunt, or at least her hand, around him instead.

 

Fuck, the way that small little hand fit inside his. Perfectly. God, he knows the rest of her is just as small. And tight. He was so hard it _hurt._

 

_Who the fuck is this girl?_ Pale questioned, thinking of nothing else but fucking her raw for the rest of the night.  

 

He woke up the next morning with his clothes on, pants unbuttoned, and cock out.  

 

 

* * *

 

 

Pale finds himself standing in front of the diner after he finishes at work.

 

A bell goes off as he walks through the door. The place smells like grease and espresso. He does a scan of the restaurant and sees an older man behind the counter, a couple customers milling about, and a waitress taking orders. A waitress who’s not his girl.

 

Undeterred, Pale walks over to a booth and orders a coffee when the waitress comes by.

 

Maybe his girl’s in the back. He should wait, Pale decides. So that’s what he does.

 

He sits and waits in that booth, sipping his coffee.

 

His cup gets refilled three times before the waitress comes by to tell him they’re closing up.

 

“Sorry about it,” the man behind the counter says as Pale makes his way to the door.

 

“Huh?” Pale questions. Fuck, was it really that obvious he was waiting for someone?

 

“About forcing ya out. Just changed our weeknight hours.”

 

“Oh. Right. It’s fine.” Pale storms out of the diner, and even though he said it was fine, it’s not fine.

 

He’s frustrated and confused, the coke he snorted up with Ray earlier is wearin’ off, and he’s jittery from the coffee. There’s no way in hell he’s sleeping tonight.

 

Tuesday it’s the same.

 

This time, instead of coffee, he orders an English breakfast tea. He wants to actually attempt to fall asleep later.

 

Pale waits and he waits but his girl never shows.

 

On Wednesday he wonders if she requested off for the week. Or if she started working an earlier shift.

 

Thursday he starts to fear the worst.  

 

On Friday, he can’t take it anymore. Pale approaches the man behind the counter.    

      

“You got another waitress but I ain’t seen her any this week,” he says.

 

“What?”

 

“Ya know, brown hair, freckles. Yea high.” He gestures a bit below his shoulders. “Probably gotta force her to wear a coat.”

 

“Oh. She’ll be in tomorrow night. Works weekends.”

 

Jesus fucking christ, wouldn’t that have been great to know. It’s silent as the man sizes Pale up.

 

“You know Rey?”

 

Pale’s taken aback.

 

“Uh, yeah. I fuckin’ know Ray.”

 

It’s beyond Pale how this guy knows the little fucker who works at his restaurant, but maybe he’s eaten there before. He hopes that’s what it is. Cause if this guy’s close with Ray, he’s not sure he wants his girl workin’ for him. Shit, he’d fire Ray if he wasn’t such a good fuckin’ cook.

 

“Well, I guess I’ll see you back again tomorrow, then.”

 

“Yeah you will,” Pale grunts, continuing under his breath as he leaves the diner, “You bet your ass you’ll see me tomorrow.”

 

 

        

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Rey gets to the diner Saturday night to find it busier than it’s been in weeks.

 

As she quickly hurries behind the counter to punch in and grab her apron, the door jingles and more customers roll in.

 

Rey shoots Lando a look of disbelief.

 

“It’s about time word spread about my mac and cheeseburger,” he teases, all smug. “It can’t be beat.”

 

Rey laughs. “Oh yeah. To die for.”

 

They don’t get the chance to speak to each other again for hours, too busy frying food and taking orders. On a bad day Rey might’ve dreaded a shift like this.

 

But Rey didn’t have a bad day. No — her day was lazy and _glorious._    

 

The winter recital is coming up, so classes were cancelled in preparation for the dress rehearsal tomorrow. This meant she had the pleasure of sleeping a whole three hours more than usual. Rey can't remember the last time she didn’t need to set an alarm. She even finished half of next week’s homework.

 

In other words, Rey is rested and on top of her shit.

 

And, even better, she didn’t let her mind drift off to fantasize about you-know-who. Not once.

 

_Maybe,_ Rey thinks, _I’m finally over him._  

 

But as she collects used napkins and tableware from a newly vacant booth, Rey finds herself wondering again about missing people that you never really knew.

 

And maybe, just maybe, she still has a little ways to go.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Hey Rey,” Lando begins as she collapses on a barstool during a brief lull. “You seeing anybody?”

 

“Lando!” Rey reacts, taken aback.   

 

“No no no, nothing like that. It’s just. Some guy’s been hanging out in the shop every night this week so far, was asking about you.”

 

He points to the furthest booth in the back.

 

“Sits right here. Orders coffee or tea and stays for an hour or two. Really tall. Think he’s from Jersey, at least, that’s what it sounds like.”  

 

Rey can’t believe it.

 

“You’re sure he asked about me?”

 

Lando nods as he plates a couple burgers. “Said he knew Rey. Hey, can you take this to table five?”

 

Dumbfounded, Rey picks up the tray and miraculously goes through the motions of serving the burgers without any mishaps. All the while, she’s absolutely out of her mind trying to process what Lando’s just told her.

 

It’s impossible.

 

Or maybe it’s not, because a moment later Ben walks through the door and the world _stops_.

 

They lock eyes and it’s just like before. Only, different, because the first couple times they were pretty much alone.

 

But now they’re staring at each other across the length of a crowded diner. A crowded diner that she works at, and, _oh god_ , he’s moving to go sit in her section.

 

And now she has to go wait on him. Great.

 

Rey decides to drag it out. Refills water cups that are practically already full, asks if she can bring out the dessert menu and convinces those who say no to try the cheesecake, chats up some woman wearing a sweater with her university’s logo on it. Anything to prolong this inevitable interaction.

 

But as time goes on, Rey realizes there’s nothing left to do other than go ask what he wants. Sighing, she musters up some courage before heading over.  

 

Rey can’t help but notice the way he’s sitting — with his legs crossed and propped up on the seat across from his, and his arms spread across the top of his own. Like he owns the place.

 

“Took you long enough,” he remarks as she approaches.           

 

“How do you know my name?”

 

He sits up.

 

“I don’t. Fuckin’ wish I did.”

 

“But...you told Lando that you know Rey.”

 

“That’s cause I do know Ray. That coked-up fucker. It’s you I don’t know. Who I’m tryin’ to know.”

 

Oh, this is _rich_. Rey decides to change the subject.

 

“Can I take your order?”

 

“No. What _is_ your name?”

 

“If you’re not gonna order anything you’re gonna have to leave. We’re busy and you’re taking up a whole booth.”

 

“Fuck. Get me whatever, then. And when you come back with it you’re telling me your name.”

 

“I’m not telling you anything,” Rey replies as she walks away to go put his order in with Lando, more confused than ever.  

 

After she hands her boss the slip of paper from her server’s pad, he gives her an approving nod.

 

“Your man’s got good taste,” Lando says, and Rey doesn’t correct him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Rey goes back to serve Ben his food, she finds one of the diner’s paper kids menus and an opened package of crayons spread out across the table.

 

“Uh, what is this?” Rey questions.

 

“I could say the same thing to you.” He gestures to the plate she’s holding. “You tryna give me a fuckin’ heart attack or something?”

 

Rey smirks as she sets down the double mac and cheeseburger with a serving of chili cheese fries.

 

“Something like that. Did you get bored? Or is coloring one of your regular pastimes?”

 

Ben ignores the questions.

 

Customers have stopped funneling in, causing things to really slow down. Rey tells herself that’s why she sits across from him, why she picks up both a yellow and black crayon and draws a tiny sun with a smiley face and sunglasses in the top right corner of the kids menu.

 

“This is how the cool kids used to draw the sun.”

 

She picks up an orange crayon and attempts at shading. “This’ll add some dimension.”

 

Ben just stares at her.

 

“You said you wouldn’t tell me your name,” he starts.

 

“I remember.”

 

“But, you didn’t say you wouldn’t write it down.”

 

Rey puts down the crayon.  

 

“You’re ridiculous.”

 

“No. I’m a fuckin’ genius, and you’re mad about it.”

 

“You wanna know my name so bad. What makes you think I don’t wanna know yours?”

 

“It’s Pale,” he says automatically.

 

“What’s pale?” She looks down at her sleeveless arms.

 

“I am. That’s my name. Pale. Now tell me yours.”

 

And Rey wants to laugh and cry and scream because she knows his name and their banter is so easy. Too easy. _Pale._ His name is Pale. Not Ben. Pale.

 

“Hmmm,” Rey considers.

 

“ _Fuck this._ I’m not patient. I don’t wait. For anything.” Pale says. “So look, you don’t wanna say it, you don’t wanna write it down, fine. But this is what we’re gonna do. We are gonna play this goddamn game of tic tac toe.”

 

Pale points to the pre-printed 3x3 grid on the menu.

 

“And if I win, you’re gonna tell me your fuckin’ name, alright. If you win you can do whatever you want, it doesn’t matter. You’re not gonna win. I never lose.”

 

He sounds so confident that Rey has to laugh.

 

“What happens if we both lose? Hypothetically, of course.”

  

“I guess we’ll see if we get there. You know. Hypothetically.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

He picks up a red crayon. “I’m Xs.”

 

She picks up blue. “That makes me Os, I think.”

 

“Ladies first.” He pushes the menu towards her.

 

“Oh no, after you.” She pushes it right back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Well, fuck.”

 

“I thought you said you don’t lose.”

 

“I didn’t lose. Because _you didn’t win_.”

 

Rey snorts. “Well, okay. But you didn’t win, either. We tied.”

 

Pale pauses.

 

“That may be true. _But._ I didn’t lose.”

 

Rey tries to hide her smile and fails.

 

“Rey.”

 

“The fuck?” he says. “What about Ray?”

 

“It’s my name. R-E-Y.” She writes it out with the blue crayon, right next to her super-cool sun.

 

“Like ray of sunshine. Or, the aquatic animal of the manta variety. And, I guess, like some other guy you know. Just with an E instead. Rey. Happy?”

 

“Well, fuck. _Rey_.”

 

Her name has never sounded better. She’ll never get over his smolder, the way he stares right into her soul. Rey said she was done, that she was trying to get over him.   

 

_But maybe_ , _just maybe,_ Rey thinks, _I can fuck him out of my system. Nothing serious. A one night thing._  

 

She gets up from the table. Pale doesn’t move — but he’s still watching her. Waiting.

 

“So. My shift ends soon. Just gotta close up first.” She picks up his untouched plate.

 

Pale nods as he plucks a crisp fifty from his wallet and throws it on the table.

 

“I’ll be outside. Keep the change,” he says, lighting a cigarette and walking away.

 

Rey stares down at the kids menu on the table. For some reason, she can’t find it in herself to throw it away. So she picks it up and folds it into a tiny square before sticking it in her pocket.

 

“ _God._ What is going on?” Rey breathes out.

 

Instead of letting his untouched food go to waste, Rey packs up Pale’s dinner in a to-go box. Maybe they’ll share it later tonight or something, she reasons.

 

She floats through the rest of her closing duties, nervous and excited and everything in between. After clocking out, Rey takes a second to compose herself.

 

“Here goes nothing,” she says before pushing the door open. 

 

She’s barely even made it outside when she’s lifted off the ground in one swoop, enveloped in Pale’s arms as he shoves his tongue down her throat. He tastes like smoke but Rey doesn’t care. She loves it, immediately wrapping her legs around his waist and reciprocating the kiss.  

 

They don’t stay outside the diner long, though.

 

A second later they’re on the move. Pale runs like a man possessed, panting and holding Rey up by her ass while she clings to his chest. She guesses they’re headed to his apartment, but she doesn’t know. She can’t see anything that’s not his neck, his hair, him.   

 

Somehow they make it inside an elevator, and while Rey thinks Pale’s attempting to restrain himself, he’s not exactly being subtle.

 

No, he’s everywhere.

 

His mouth sucks bruises into the skin below her collarbone. His nose presses deep into her neck. His fingers dig their way inside her panties, and god, does she wish she wore a cuter pair. These are Rey’s _I-haven’t-done-my-laundry-in-three-weeks_ panties. But Pale doesn’t seem to mind.

 

“You’re already so wet, you slut. _Fuck._ How long have you been wet for me? Since I walked in?”

 

“ _Pale,”_ Rey breathes.

 

“Since before?”

 

“Uhhhhuh,” Rey whines, as he presses his thumb against her clit.

 

The elevator opens and Pale rushes them to his apartment door, fumbling with his keys before storming inside and slamming it shut. He grabs the to-go box from her hand and sets it on his kitchen counter. Rey doesn’t get the chance to look around, because the next second they’re in his bedroom and Pale’s thrown her across his bed.

 

“Fucking _finally._ Look at you. Right where you belong,” he says, ripping off his clothes as fast as he can.

 

Rey reciprocates, pulls her shirt over her head and shimmies out of her jeans.

 

Pale keeps the lights off, but his room isn’t dark. His window doesn’t have blinds, so the warm glow of the street light shines through. It illuminates his chest, the gold chain around his neck. The only thing he still has on. _Fuck,_ Rey thinks, looking him up and down. _His dick is huge_.

 

Rey’s just about naked, laying on top of the sheets in only her bra and underwear.

 

Pale jumps on the bed, dragging his hands down her sides as she makes room for him between her legs. He begins at her ribcage, slowly working his hands down her body before stopping at the edge of her soaked panties. He pulls them down and Rey kicks them the rest of the way off.  

 

His fingers then travel up her back, leaving goosebumps, stopping when they hit her bra clasp. For a second, Pale doesn’t do anything. He just stares at her breasts in the tiny bralette.

 

“You almost got no tits at all, you know.”

 

Rey exhales. “I know. Thanks.”

 

“No, that’s beautiful. Provocative. Drives me fuckin’ crazy. Makes me wanna look and see just how much there is.”

 

Pale releases the clasp and pushes her bra out of the way while Rey shuts her eyes, expecting the worst. She doesn’t wanna hear about how her boobs are too small, can’t take it.

 

But Pale surprises her. _He groans._

 

“So fuckin’ perfect. Like two little Hershey Kisses hangin’ off your chest.”

 

Before Rey can process what he’s just said, Pale fits the entirety of her left breast into his mouth.

 

“Oh, _Pale._ Oh my god,” Rey breathes.  

 

And then Pale’s suckling her, licking, lightly nipping all around. Rey forgets how to breathe, reduced to nothing but whimpers and moans.

 

After a while he comes back up for air, leaving a trail of spittle between her breast and his mouth. He smirks.

 

“Better than chocolate,” he says, before diving down to give her right breast the same attention.

 

Rey’s going insane. Her core’s throbbing so much she wants to explode, needs some sort of release. She rolls around in the sheets a little before attempting to rub up against Pale’s thigh.

 

“Oh, fuck no,” he says, pushing her away when he realizes what she’s doing.

 

“When you come, it’s gonna be on my cock. You don’t get yourself off. I get you off.”

 

Rey just about sobs.

 

“Please Pale. _Please._ I need it, I need you so bad.”

 

“Oh, I know you do,” is all he says before thrusting inside. Rey _collapses._

 

“Holy fucking _shit. Fuck._ You’re so fucking tight,” he yells.

 

Rey’s never been so full. Pale pushes and pushes and pushes until he’s all the way inside.

 

He situates his big hands around her, fingers overlapping around her little waist, as he starts to move at a punishing pace.

 

“Jesus Christ, Rey, it’s like you’re a fuckin’ virgin or something. Feels like I’m the only person who’s ever been inside you. So fuckin’ tight. Squeezin’ me so good.”

 

Rey gasps and claws at his back.

 

“You like this? How much I fill you up? How my cock stretches you open?”       

 

“ _Yes._ Oh god, yes. Don’t stop.”

 

Rey wraps her legs around him, not wanting any space at all between their bodies, pushing herself as close to him as she possibly can. He feels _so good._ She’s not gonna last much longer. And, by the look of things, neither will he.

 

“Made for me. You were fuckin’ made for me. Made for fucking me. It’s like somebody went inside my brain and picked you out of it, made you real. How are you fuckin’ real?”  

 

It’s too much. Rey clenches even tighter around Pale and he _loses_ it, rams into her over and over and over, hitting the perfect spot with urgency. His thrusts are deep, steadily rocking his headboard into the wall. She’s so close.  

 

“I— _oh. I_ — _”_

 

“Go ahead and come baby, go ahead,” Pale allows, and Rey _gushes._

 

“Ohhh, _fuck. Paleeee_ ,” she moans, finally reveling in the mind-blowing orgasm she’s fantasized about for months.   

 

Pale pistons into her, still chasing his own release.

 

“You hear that?” he asks.

 

“That squelching sound? That’s because of your come, baby. So much come, look at all of it,” and Rey moans his name louder than ever before.

 

It’s what sets him off. He shoves his cock so far up inside Rey and comes in long, hot ropes.

 

Completely spent, Pale collapses on top of her.

 

“Holy shit,” he breathes.

 

“Yeah,” she agrees.

 

For a moment they just lay there. Not moving. Not speaking. His softening cock still inside her. Breathing together.   

 

And then he’s pulling out and Rey’s never felt so empty.

 

Pale flops down beside her while she exhales, starting to come back to herself. Beginning to process what’s just happened. Feeling cum ooze out of her and looking down at the mess they made.

 

Pale sees this and begins to push his come back inside her with his fingers. “My cum,” he says, “belongs inside you. No where else. Not on these sheets. Right in your pussy.”

 

In any other situation, Rey would’ve rolled her eyes. Or laughed and shoved him away. But Pale just gave her the greatest sex of her life, and, for some reason, she doesn’t want to ruin this moment.

 

Plus, this is it. This is all she’s decided to allow herself. A one night stand.

 

Rey runs one of her hands through his hair, and wishes that it could be different.

 

Wishes that he wasn’t married. That he didn’t have a family. That she wasn’t the other woman.

 

But she knows that it’s all true, and that she needs to leave. Soon.

 

Pale pulls her in close, then scrunches up his nose.  

 

“You smell like a fuckin’ french fry.”

 

“Yeah,” she smiles. “Perks of the diner.”

 

It feels great to be held by someone. Otherworldly, almost. Has she ever been held like this?

 

But she won’t let herself get used to it. She can’t.

 

So Rey sits up and starts to leave open-mouthed kisses along his chest and stomach, making her way down until she nuzzles the line of fuzz that leads to his cock.

 

Pale groans and wraps his hands around her head, jerking his quickly hardening length around her chin. Waiting for her sweet mouth. She gives him an innocent lick on the tip.

 

“Mmmm. And you taste like a french fry. So salty. Delicious,” she teases.

 

“Oh shut up and get suckin’. We’re showering after this,” he says with a smile.

 

And Rey does as she’s told.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She probably should have said no to the shower, should have left right after she blew him.

 

But tomorrow’s the dress rehearsal for the winter recital, and Rey could stand to take a shower with a properly functioning nozzle beforehand. So she relents. And maybe, just maybe, she can’t find herself to leave just yet.  

 

She was right. His shower is way nicer than hers.   

 

Pale insists on cleaning her himself, on using a washcloth to lather soap around her body. On massaging his shampoo and conditioner into her hair.  

 

“That’s better,” he says after carefully washing it out. “Now you smell like me.”

 

In nothing but a towel, Rey begins to collect her clothes off of his floor.

 

“What’re you doin’?” He asks, taking her hand. “Come here.”

 

Pale pulls her to bed, pushes her towel away, and spoons himself around her naked form.

 

And Rey wants to cry. Because this feels like it could be something. Rey even thinks she may want it to be something. After a minute of laying with him, feeling his comforting warmth and steady heartbeat, Rey wonders why she didn’t insist on leaving before he pulled her to bed.

 

_I guess,_ she relents, _I just wanted to live in this fantasy for as long as possible._

 

So Rey lies there.

 

She feels him breathe in and out, feels him tighten his hold around her. She lies there with him until she’s sure he’s fallen asleep.

 

When the time comes, Rey carefully extracts herself from his arms and climbs out of his bed. She collects her clothes and goes to change in the living room.

 

As she reclapses her bralette, Rey feels eyes on her. She quickly turns around, fearing the worst.

 

But it’s not Pale. No. It’s only a photo on his side table, of what she assumes are his kids. Smiling.  

 

Quickly and quietly Rey redresses, feeling dirty for slipping soiled panties back on her newly showered skin. And feeling dirty for other reasons, too.

 

She’s about to head out when she remembers the mac and cheeseburger on the kitchen counter. Her stomach rumbles. Oh. She’s hungry. Right. There was no time for dinner.   

 

Rey grabs the to-go box, takes one last look around his apartment, and leaves. It’s almost as if she was never there in the first place.  

 

When the elevator opens to the lobby of his building, Rey looks up to see if she was right about the chandeliers. There aren’t five, like she previously guessed. There isn’t even one.

 

And, as Rey walks home, she tries to focus on the recital she has to prepare for instead of the man she just left alone in bed.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

  

Pale assumes Rey must be in the bathroom.

 

“Get the _fuck_ back over here,” he yells through a yawn.

 

There’s no answer. 

 

“Rey?” Pale questions, jumping out of bed. “Did ya fall in the toilet or somethin’?” He peeks through the bathroom door, but she’s nowhere to be seen.  

 

Slipping on a pair of briefs, he makes his way to the living room.

 

It’s empty. So is the kitchen. _The_ _fuck?_

 

Pale looks out his big window to find the sun already high up in the sky. _Shit,_ he thinks, checking the clock. He’s late for work. But, more importantly, where is Rey?

 

It’s Sunday morning. Where does she gotta be so early? He smirks, thinking about what they did last night. _Not church, that’s for sure._   

 

This is the first time he’s slept through the night in months, he realizes. But that don’t really mean nothin’ at the moment because he doesn’t know where the fuck Rey’s gone.

 

Pale slumps down on the couch, now aggravated and horny, when his telephone rings. Shit. The restaurant pages him when they need 'em, who the fuck could this be?

 

“What?” He grumbles, answering the phone.

 

“Hi, is this Jimmy?”

 

Pale flinches. “Who’s asking?”

 

“Oh, so glad I caught you! My name’s Amilyn Holdo, I run East Village Dance Academy over on Houston. I’ve been trying to reach you at a different number for weeks now. Your wife finally answered my call this morning and said I could find you here. I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

 

Pale just about hangs up.

 

“You got no idea.”

 

“Oh. Well, I’m calling to invite you to our winter recital.”

 

“Your _what_?”

 

“Our winter recital. It’s dedicated to your brother Robbie.”

 

And all at once Pale stops breathing. He’s been avoiding this for as long as possible. The grief, the guilt.  

 

“We’d really love for you to be there. I understand this is short notice, but—”

 

“Yeah. I don’t know if I can make it,” Pale interrupts.  

 

“Oh. Well, that’s okay. Maybe next time.”

 

There’s a lengthy pause before she continues.

 

“You know, Robbie would always talk about you. Tell stories from your childhood. It was always Jimmy this, Jimmy that. You were his emergency contact, that’s how I got that first phone number.”

 

If this lady thinks he knows how to respond to that, she’s got another thing comin’.

 

“Have a good rest of your day, Jimmy,” she finishes.

 

Pale hangs up and throws his phone across the room.   

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rey strolls through her neighborhood’s weekend greenmarket as she mentally prepares for the long day ahead. She hardly slept a wink after getting home last night, too much on her mind.

 

But she doesn’t let herself dwell on that for too long.

 

It’s about as nice as a December day in New York can be. The sun is shining. The smell of fresh bread and maple syrup wafts through the air. Cinnamon apple cider is for sale at Rey’s favorite booth.

 

In this moment, all is well.

 

Rey’s about to head home and change into something more professional when she comes across a vendor selling bouquets of wildflowers wrapped in brown paper. Each bouquet is filled with some of her favorite flowers — purple asters, pink cosmos, red chrysanthemums, yellow sunflowers.  

 

They are so vibrant she could cry.

 

In another life, Rey lives in a small house in a tiny town with a rose garden in her backyard. There’s a rocking chair on her front porch, and a stream down the road that flows into a larger river. She passes time by skipping stones in it. She never wears shoes and makes herself flower crowns from the wild dandelions that grow along the nearby field.  

 

It’s no secret that her real life is hardly the fantasy in her head. Still, no matter how often she daydreams, Rey loves her reality. Not once growing up in the system did she ever allow herself to think she would get the opportunity to dance for a living. That’s what seemed like a fantasy, back then.  

 

But now it’s her everyday. And she certainly couldn’t have made it happen in that make-believe town.

 

So, Rey compromises.

 

By filling her apartment with flowers she can’t afford.

 

“I’ll take two,” she tells the vendor, before handing over the last of her tip money.

 

Back home, Rey displays one of the bouquets in a vase on her kitchen counter. The other she plans to give to Amilyn later.

 

_They’re beautiful,_ she thinks, sighing and sticking her hands in her pockets, when she feels something brush against her fingers.

 

It’s the kids menu, she realizes.

 

_Right._ She had slipped on the same clothes as yesterday in a rush to get out of her apartment and clear her head.

 

Rey unfolds the piece of paper into its full glory and suddenly her compartmentalizing skills falter.  

 

Now all she can think about is Pale.

 

She wishes life was easier. She wishes it were fair.

 

For a second, she wishes that throwing the menu away would throw away everything else that happened, too. But that’s not possible.

 

This menu symbolizes something that can’t be erased by getting rid of a piece of paper. Someone she probably won’t ever be able to forget.  

 

Rey doesn’t even think she _wants_ to forget him.

 

It’s too much to process.

 

So, she sets the menu down on the kitchen counter and goes to get ready, deciding that she’ll deal with it later.

 

  
  

* * *

 

 

 

“Rey, this is great.”

 

“You think?” She’s biting her nails, nervous for Jessica’s grand jeté.  

 

“Yes. Ugh. So good.”  

 

Jess lands perfectly and Rey celebrates, whisper-shouting, “YES!”

 

Amilyn cheers as well, careful not to take her eyes away from the stage until the dancers hit their final pose. Not long after the song ends, and Rey’s students scurry off stage left.

 

“That was the best you’ve ever done it!” Rey exclaims, overwhelmed with pride.

 

She high-fives her students as some head off to change into their next costume, while a few others race to make the most of the upcoming break and eat their lunch.

 

Rey follows Amilyn out to the auditorium where the house lights have come up.

 

She sits down in the front row and pulls out her own lunch bag, exhausted and hungry from hours of rehearsal. After discussing sound cues with the theatre’s technician, Amilyn joins her.

 

“So,” she begins, sitting down next to Rey. “I was wondering if you’d give the welcome speech tomorrow night. You know, before the show starts. Maybe talk about Robbie a little?”

 

Rey almost chokes on her tuna sandwich. “Me?”

 

“Yeah. You’ve really impressed me with your choreography, Rey. And I would always see you talking to Robbie between classes. I mean, of course I miss him. But, _oh_ , this hurts to admit, I don’t think I really ever knew him. At least, not like you.”

 

And Rey wants to laugh, except it’s not funny.  

 

It’s really something — to be reminded that the people you admire struggle with the same things you do. That they aren’t all knowing, invincible. That everyone needs help.

 

Maybe Rey did know Robbie better than most people after all.

 

So Rey picks up Amilyn’s hand and squeezes it.

 

“Of course I’ll give the welcome speech. I’d be honored.”

       

Amilyn squeezes right back.

 

“Thank you, Rey. For everything. For the flowers, for picking up those extra classes, for giving the speech. If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know.”

 

Rey removes her hand from Amilyn’s grip and runs it through her hair.

 

“Actually, there is something. I know I’m supposed to dance a solo in the recital, but I really haven’t had time to put anything together. At least, nothing I’m proud of.” She fidgets in her seat, nervous for Amilyn’s response.

 

“Oh, Rey. I’m not gonna force you, you know that. But I’d love to see you perform.”

 

“I want to. It’s just. I’m not prepared. Like, at all.”

 

Amilyn takes a deep breath.

 

“I don’t go around saying what I’m about to say very often. But.”

 

She takes her hand again.

 

“Dance is all about how you feel. And you have so much talent, Rey. You get out there, it’ll come to you. What have you been feeling lately? Channel that.”

 

And Rey’s floored, because _what._ A better question would be what hasn’t Rey been feeling lately.

 

She’s grieving. She’s lonely. She’s confused.

 

One minute she wants to be with Pale. The other she’s telling herself it could never happen.

 

How do you turn all of that into a dance?

 

“You just let me know what you decide, Rey. By the end of the day, if possible, so I can get the music you need.”

 

“I will,” she says, less sure than she’s ever been.  

 

 

* * *

 

 

Pale’s going out of his mind.

 

He went to work, of course, he always goes to work. He doesn’t do days off.

 

Soon as he gets to the restaurant Pale locks himself up in his office and does a couple lines of coke. That fixes things for about an hour.

 

But then some waiter drops a glass. It makes a loud crashing sound, shattering on the floor. And Pale _loses it,_ starts screaming at the guy.

 

“Hey hey hey, It’s just a cup,” Marty says, trying to calm him down.   

 

That was the wrong fucking thing to say. After Pale tells him off, Marty looks him in the eyes. Guess he sees something he doesn’t like, asks Pale if he’s high. So what if he is, Pale replies.

 

“This is worse than usual,” Marty says, worried.

 

So maybe it was more than a couple lines. He actually can’t remember.

 

All he knows is that Marty and Ray start bothering him, tellin’ him to go home. Somehow he gets in a cab, and that cab takes him back to his apartment.

 

Back to the place he bought in New York, where he lives alone.

 

Back to the neighborhood his brother used to call home.  

 

The place he moved to get away from his old shitty life. Away from his wife that hates him. His kids who don’t love him.

 

Pale barely makes it into his room before he collapses on the bed.         

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Pale wakes back up the sun has long set. His sweaty skin sticks to the inside of his suit, which is now crinkled and in desperate need of a trip to the cleaners.

 

He hops in the shower and stays for what feels like an hour, maybe it is. He’s not sure.

 

All he does is stare at the steady stream and think about his brother. About how he shoulda been there more. About what he would do if he had another chance to make it right.  

 

His back aches. There’s a crook in his neck, and his headache alone is enough reason to stay inside for the rest of the night.

 

But Pale needs to see Rey.

 

So he cleans himself up. Dresses in another nice suit, threads a tie around his neck, and makes his way over to the diner.

 

He can see her in the shop’s window. Her hair is pulled up tonight. She’s chattin’ with some old guy, laughing at whatever he’s just said. How is it fucking possible for someone to smile so wide?

 

He walks in and moves to sit in his regular booth, knowing that Rey will come over soon enough.

 

He doesn’t have to wait long.

 

“Hey,” she breathes out.

 

“Where’d you go?” he questions, straight to the point.

 

“I had somewhere to be.”

 

Hmm. Vague. Pale doesn’t like that. He moves to grab her hand, begins to rub circles into her palm.

 

“Somewhere better than where you were?”

 

She doesn’t answer, but flashes the softest smile instead. He thinks he could do anything with her smilin’ at him like that. He could conquer empires, move mountains.

 

So, Pale makes a decision. Maybe he could go to the recital. Maybe he could handle it, if only she were there.

 

“Hey. I want you to go somewhere with me tomorrow night,” he says. He’s not really asking, but waits for her response anyway.

 

But Rey’s not smiling anymore. She starts to pull her hand away, and Pale pulls it right back.

 

“I can’t do tomorrow. Got plans, busy.”

 

And, OK, he can live with that. Sure.

 

“Well, I’ll just wait here till you get off, then. You wanna go back to my place or yours?”

 

This time Rey succeeds in pulling her hand away.

 

“Pale, I can’t. Busy all day tomorrow, can’t stay up tonight, okay?”

 

Huh. So this is how she wants it to be?

 

All Pale can hear is white noise as he gets up to leave, missing Rey’s silent, “But maybe next time,” as he storms out the door.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rey shivers on her walk home, replaying tonight’s interaction with Pale over and over.

 

She wonders if she’s anything more to him than another girl to fuck. The way he acted tonight, _well_.

 

It almost seemed like she is. But maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

 

She had thought Pale might stop by. She had sorta even hoped he would. But, when he was actually there, she had no idea what to say to him. Hadn’t even begun to process it, too preoccupied with planning her speech and deciding whether or not she’s gonna dance in the recital herself.

 

As she makes her way up the stairs of her building Rey’s still going over all her memories with Robbie, picking them apart and trying to decide how best to honor him.

 

She remembers his encouragements. His stories. His advice that she always appreciated but could never really figure out how to implement.  

 

Not only is this exercise helping Rey figure out her speech, it’s helping her come to terms with her grief. She’s been avoiding this for so long.

 

But now it’s like a dam has flooded. It’s all rushing back.

 

And it’s not all painful, like she first thought it might be. Sure, it’s sad. But mostly it’s helping her heal.

     

Rey plops down on her bed right in the middle of replaying a short conversation she had with Robbie months ago, when her eyes go wide. _Oh._

 

Robbie had been going off about this guy he’d been seeing, but she didn’t understand it at first. She gets what he was saying, now.

 

About intimacy, about passion.

 

About the terrifying possibility of both.

 

About how if it makes you feel something, you shouldn't hide from it. Shouldn’t go out of your way to make it difficult. No. You should let yourself fall _._ Feel.

 

And suddenly Rey’s inspired.

 

She begins to throw her dance bag together, needing to get to the studio right away. Needing to let whatever she’s uncovered become a semblance of the dance she feels it could be. Rey grabs her telephone and dials Amilyn, nervous and excited and hoping she picks up.

 

It rings only once.

 

“I was waiting for your call,” Amilyn says.

 

“How’d you know it was me?”

 

“I had a feeling. So?”

 

Rey swallows, heart beating.

 

“I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna dance tomorrow.”

 

  

* * *

 

 

 

Pale takes his first ever Monday off and it fuckin’ sucks.

 

He feels like shit.

 

If he’s being honest, he’s felt like shit for a while. Nothing about him makes any sense.

 

He _swears_ that he’s always been a control freak. That he needs to always be the one in charge, the one to make the rules.

 

Why, then, did he get married? He didn’t want to.

 

But it was expected of him. It was what he was supposed to do.

 

And why did he stay in a loveless marriage for so long? Who’d that benefit? The kids who want nothin’ to do with him? The wife who left him anyway?

 

He wasted sixteen years of his life not really even living. And now, well. Now Pale just wants to make his own decisions. Craves it.

 

He sits up in his bed and lights a cigarette.

 

Pale thought he was right about her.

 

The first person he’s vulnerable with in months and she leaves like it meant nothing.  

 

He takes a long drag. _This how Robbie felt?_ He wonders.

 

All those calls unanswered. All those interactions dodged. All that time spent moping about his own life and not checking in on the only real family he had.

 

Maybe he can’t change the past. _But._

 

Pale looks down at his watch. 7:30. He can make it if he really books it.

 

He groans, puts out his cigarette, and gets dressed.

 

He’s got a show to catch.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Pale runs through the theatre’s door as he silently tries to regulate his breath.

 

He doesn’t like being late.  

 

The auditorium is absolutely packed, but it doesn’t look like the show has started yet. There’s no way he’ll be able to find a seat though, shoulda gotten here earlier.

 

Pale moves to go stand in the back of the auditorium when someone starts speaking into a microphone and _holy shit,_ that sounds familiar. No. Is that?

 

“Rey,” he breathes, looking up at the stage, mystified.

 

He’s finding it really hard to focus on her words, as he’s only just begun to process what’s going on, and, also, is he sure that Rey’s not a witch? She keeps poppin’ up everywhere and _how the fuck does she do that._ Pale’s missed the beginning of whatever it is she’s saying, but begins to listen in.

 

“He just always knew what to say. I feel like I can never find the words to give to other people, can never be what they need, say what they need to hear. But Robbie always could,” Rey gets out.

 

Pale’s hanging on to her every word, leaning against the back wall.

 

“With his own problems, too. He could always figure out exactly what he needed to do. How did he do that? And maybe the solution wasn’t always easy, _nothing_ in Robbie’s life was ever easy, but he made it seem effortless. I remember he was seeing somebody on and off for a while. It was getting pretty complicated. He was telling me about it, going in, giving every detail, when he suddenly interrupts himself and goes — ‘Screw this. This isn’t opera, this is life. Why should love always be tragic?’”

 

Rey looks down.

 

“God, I’ll never forget that. I want to learn how to live my life that way. To love like that.”

 

She pauses, looks back up.

 

“We all should. This recital’s for you, Robbie. We’re all dancing for you.” She hurries backstage as the audience starts to clap.

 

He would never admit to this, but Pale begins to cry.

 

And, as the curtain opens, it reveals Rey again.

 

She’s wearing tights and a leotard. Just like that first night.

 

Music plays as she begins to dance. So flexible, his girl. They could have utilized that more.

 

He’s never seen anything like the way she moves. It’s mesmerizing. It’s sensual. It’s full of longing.

 

He’ll never be able to hear this song again and not think of her.

 

_Tell me now, baby, is he good to you?_

_And can he do to you the things that I do?_

_Oh, no I can take you higher_

_Oh, oh, oh_

_I’m on fire_

 

 

* * *

 

 

The show ends, and it’s a good thing, too. Pale’s on edge.

 

He _needs_ to see Rey.

 

The curtain closes and the house lights come back on, causing everyone to get out of their seats and make their way to the lobby.

 

Pale waits until nearly every person has exited the theater before following behind them.

 

By now, most of the dancers have changed back into regular clothes and are visiting with their friends and family. Pale scans the lobby, watching kids receive flowers and take photos, before his eyes finally land on Rey.

 

She’s still in costume, getting passed around from family to family. Kids are running up to hug her legs and parents are shaking her hand. She’s busy.

 

_That’s fine_ , Pale thinks. _Let them have their time_.

 

He wants to be alone with her, anyway.

 

So Pale heads back inside the empty auditorium and sneaks backstage, careful to not get caught. He turns a few corners before making it to the dressing rooms, looking into the nearest one.

 

It’s tiny.

 

Mirrors with light bulbs up and down each side are featured prominently on every wall. There’s makeup and hair products spread out on the counter, an unzipped athletic bag overflowing on the floor, and a nice dress hanging on a hook.

 

The room could belong to anybody.

 

But Rey’s jacket is unmistakable as it lies draped across the back of a chair.

 

Bingo.

 

Pale enters and shuts the door behind him.

 

   

* * *

    

 

Rey smiles as she makes her way backstage, overcome with emotion.

 

The recital went _so well_.

 

Weeks worth of stress evaporated as soon as she took her final bow, satisfied with her performance and so proud of her little dancers. Classes won’t pick back up until January, so now Rey has three weeks off. Boy, does she need them.

 

She’ll finally have time to sleep. Time to catch up on schoolwork, finish the last of her final exams. And, now that she’s made her decision, time to be with Pale.

 

If he wants her, that is.

 

Rey makes it to her dressing room and hesitates outside the door, puzzled.

 

_Didn’t I leave it open?_ She questions, turning the knob. Rey’s momentarily confused before she looks up and _oh my god._

 

“Pale?” She mutters, not believing this is real.

 

Rey’s in his arms before she can fully register what’s happening. He locks the door behind them, pushes her against it and nuzzles her close.

 

“You mean what you said up there?”

 

She blinks back tears, cradling his face in her hands.

 

“How are you here right now?” She asks, voice cracking.

 

He kisses every one of her tears away before picking her up and setting her down on the counter.

 

“You mean all that? What you said?” He asks again, arms secure around her.

 

She nods and pulls him close enough for their foreheads to touch.

 

He kisses her, so insistent, and Rey _melts_.

 

She’s obsessed with his hands.

 

The way they caress her. The way they remove her bun and extract each bobby pin from her hair. The way they make her feel safe, protected. She loses track of time, completely lost in him.  

 

Until suddenly he pulls away and Rey groans.

 

“Shhhh,” he whispers, unzipping his pants. “I’m not goin’ nowhere. Just can’t wait any longer.”

 

Rey moans, understanding. She quickly pushes both her leotard and tights off and spreads her legs wide.

 

But Pale has something else in mind.

 

“Stand up and turn around,” he says. “Wanna fuck you against the counter. I’m so worked up, it’s not gonna take long.”

 

Rey kisses him hard before she jumps down and positions herself.

 

“We gotta be quiet, baby,” he warns, and she nods, understanding and impatient. Pale grabs her and wastes no more time, immediately thrusting inside.

 

“ _Oh my god,”_ Rey breathes, trying her hardest not to scream.

 

“That was about me,” he begins, ruthlessly pounding into her and gripping her sides tight, panting and sweating. She’s going to have bruises everywhere.  

 

“Your dance. It was about me.”

 

Rey looks up at him in the mirror and _moans._ She gets it now, why he wanted to take her this way.

 

Not only can she see herself getting fucked through the mirror in front of her, but she can watch it reflected in all the mirrors that surround the dressing room.

 

Rey and Pale are all over this room, fucking and grunting and chasing release.   

 

He feels perfect inside of her, taking up all her extra space. Has it really only been a day since she’s felt like this? It feels like she’s waited a lifetime for him.  

 

“ _Rey_ ,” he prompts again, desperate for her answer.

 

“Yes. _Yes._ It was about you.”

 

That’s all it takes for him to come, to fill her up so good. “ _Holy fucking shit_ ,” he yells, and Rey falls over the edge, clenches him even tighter as he fucks her through it.

 

“So much for being quiet,” Rey teases, moving to kiss him after he pulls out.  

 

“Couldn’t help it,” Pale says, holding her close.

 

They stand like that for what has to be minutes, silent, breathing together.

 

After a while, Rey worms her way out of his grasp and slips a dress over her naked form. She haphazardly throws all her stuff into her bag as Pale watches. Waits.

 

“Come on,” she says, taking his hand in hers. “Let’s go home.”  

 

 

* * *

 

 

Pale holds Rey close, taking up all the space on her twin bed. He mouths at her neck, leaves marks her skin.

 

“You were wearin’ a leotard that first night, too,” he says after a moment.

 

“Yeah,” Rey smiles. She loves knowing that he’s thought about her as long as she’s thought about him. “A different one, though.”

 

“Mmhm,” he sighs, resting his head on her chest. It’s silent as she runs her fingers through his hair, plays with his ears. Then, out of nowhere—

 

“Robbie was my brother.”

 

Rey’s eyes go wide, mouth drops.

 

“Oh my god. Pale.”

 

And then he’s crying.

 

Rey holds him, pulls him tight against her, starts kissing him all over, everywhere she can reach. Tells him it’s gonna be okay, tells him she’s here, tells him she’s not going anywhere.

 

Finally, Pale wipes his face and rubs his cheek against hers, reaches for her lips.

 

“This ain’t fair,” he whispers. “I’m grieving and you’re giving me a hard on.”

 

Despite herself, Rey laughs. She moves to sit on his lap.

 

“You objecting?”

 

“ _Fuck no,”_ he says, positioning himself at her entrance.

 

They’ll talk about it tomorrow, she decides. There’s a lot they need to talk about tomorrow.

 

But as for right now, Rey simply sinks down onto Pale’s length and rests her head in the crook of his neck.

 

She lets herself feel something, for once. Lets herself fall.  

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

Rey isn’t sure what she expected.

 

Maybe she thought he’d stay. 

 

Maybe she thought he’d shake her awake, kiss her before he left. 

 

One thing is for sure, Rey didn’t think she would wake up all alone.

 

She turns to the empty side of her bed, where the indentations of Pale’s body still line the sheets. Like a ghost.

 

Rey sighs.

 

She’s about to overthink everything when she spots a piece of paper resting on the top of the pillow he used last night.  

 

A note. Pale left her a note. 

 

It’s been aimlessly scribbled in black pen on the back of a crumpled up receipt.

 

She grabs for it, squints trying to make out his handwriting.   

 

_At work. Be back later._

 

_Pale._

 

_P.S. Don’t get used to this sentimental shit. In fact, burn this._

 

Rey laughs, rubs her eyes and slowly comes back to herself.

 

He left a note. 

 

She doesn’t burn it like he told her to. No. Instead, she shoves it in the back of her underwear drawer, where she hopes he’ll never find it.  

 

Rey then gets herself dressed, ready to go finish her last two exams so her winter break can officially begin. 

 

She’s just about out the door when she stops dead cold in the middle of her tiny kitchen. 

 

Because right there, perched on top of her counter next to her bouquet of wildflowers, lies the kids menu. 

 

_He could have seen it_ , she realizes in a panic. _Oh my god, he had to have seen it._

 

There’s no time for Rey to deal with this now. She can’t be late for her exam. 

 

She also doesn’t think she can get rid of the menu. Not after everything that’s happened.    

 

So, Rey quickly hides it in the back of her underwear drawer, right next to Pale’s note, before taking off to catch a train.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Rey! Hey, wait up!”

 

_Oh no_.  

 

Rey really thought that she could do it. 

 

She thought she could avoid Poe forever. That it could all just fade away like it never even happened. That there wouldn’t have to be any awkward conversations, no explaining herself. 

 

But, as Rey turns to find Poe bustling down the university stairwell, she discovers that may have been a bit too optimistic.

 

“Hey, Poe,” Rey manages, as he catches up to her.

 

“I haven’t seen ya in a while.” He smiles, holds the door open while they step out into the late afternoon. 

 

“Oh. Yeah, I guess I’ve been kinda busy lately. With the recital and everything.” _And Pale,_ she thinks but doesn’t say.   

 

“How are finals going?” 

 

“Just finished my last one, actually. In desperate need of a break.” 

 

“Nice! I’ve got a couple more to go,” he begins, before he watches Rey slow down and eventually stop at the entrance of her usual Subway station.

 

“You take the 4?” he questions.

 

“Mhm.”

 

“I’ll just transfer to the L at Union Square, then.” 

 

“Oh. Okay,” she says, as Poe follows her down and through the ticket turnstiles.  

 

_So much for letting the whole Poe thing fade away on its own_ , Rey thinks as they stand together on the noisy platform.

 

It doesn’t take long for the train to arrive. As soon as the door whooshes shut, Rey fidgets in her plastic seat. She can suffer through this. It’s only a few stops. Then she’s home free. 

 

But Rey looks over at Poe and sees hope in his eyes. She lowers her head, realizes what she has to do.

 

“Hey, Poe?” 

 

“Yeah?” He’s smiling, perfect teeth on display, waiting to hear what she has to say. Rey doesn’t continue right away, and Poe’s smile falters. 

 

He just nods. Like he understands.

 

“You don’t need to say it, Rey. I get it.”

 

“Poe. I didn’t mean to lead you on in any way—”

 

“You didn’t. Lead me on. You were upfront from the beginning. Said you didn’t have the time, and I get it.”

 

It’s silent as Rey processes this. She doesn’t need to say what she says next. He’s already provided her a reason, an out. But she can’t help herself.

 

She hasn’t told anyone about Pale. Not one person. It’s like he’s some big secret, or, a figment of her imagination or something. Just another one of her fantasies.   

 

Maybe, if Rey tells someone about him, it’ll all start to feel real.

 

So, she does it. Rey bites her lip, looks back over at Poe, and tells him the truth. 

 

“Not exactly. You see, I, uh, _well_. I met someone.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Finally,” Rey hears as she walks through her door. “Get over here.”

 

“Pale?” she questions, running to her bedroom. 

 

He’s underneath her covers, just about naked, hair a mess. She kicks off her shoes and moves to climb in, kisses him on the lips as he makes room for her.

 

“How?” she whispers against him.

 

“Broke your lock before I left this mornin’,” he shrugs. “Had to be able to get back in. You sleep like a fuckin’ brick, by the way. Anyway, then I caught the door to the stairwell when some other fucker was comin’ home. I called for him to hold it, he did. Easy.”

 

Rey is speechless.

 

“Oh, we should probably get you a new lock. And keys.” 

 

He kisses up and down her arm, moves to start pushing up her shirt. Rey helps him pull it over her head. 

 

“I got your note,” she says. 

 

“Yeah?” he questions. “Well. Wasn’t gonna leave it at first. I don't like little pieces of paper. You put 'em in your pocket, you got six or eight little pieces of paper all over you. It ruins your clothes, you know?”

 

She huffs a laugh against his chest. 

 

“But I got to thinkin’ about the other morning. When you left me. And _fuck._ I hate notes. But. I coulda done with one that day.”

 

“ _Pale_ ,” is all Rey says as she takes his hands in hers, plays with his fingers.

 

All she wants to do right now is prove to Pale how much she likes him. Prove to him how real this is starting to become. 

 

But as she massages his hands with her own, Rey is once again jolted by the coolness of his wedding band. And suddenly she’s reminded of all the talking they need to do. 

 

Rey clears her throat, shoulders tense.

 

“Hey, Pale?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Do you love your wife?”

 

Pale jumps like she’s scorched him, then quickly pulls her in close.  

 

“No. No no no no, baby. Fuck. No. That’s why I’m here. I got away.”

 

Rey looks up at him.

 

“We’re separated, baby. Do I love my... _fuck no._ That’s a joke. A bad one. _”_

 

“Oh. So, the ring?”

 

Pale lets out a deep breath. 

 

“I dunno. I just never took it off. Ever. It was like my uniform. My duty, or somethin’. I made that choice. To marry her. That was my decision, ya know. I was so young when it happened...it’s been my normal forever. Probably loved her for three whole days. That’s it. Married sixteen years and only three days of love. But I made that decision. I’m stuck with it.”

 

Rey kisses him, then. Really kisses him. Breathes him in like he’s all there is, all there ever could be. When she pulls away, Rey looks him in the eyes. 

 

“Pale. You’re allowed to change your mind. You’re allowed to want to be happy.” 

 

They stare at each other for a few moments. 

 

After what feels like a lifetime, Pale leans down and presses an open-mouthed kiss in the divot of Rey’s chest. 

 

“You know, I’m startin’ to believe that,” he whispers against her skin.

 

It’s reverential, the way Pale works his fingers into her pants, pulls them off with her panties. The way he makes his way down her body, kisses from the bottom of her slit to the top, swipes the tip of his tongue along her clit. 

 

“Mmm,” he groans. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

 

“ _Pale._ ”

 

He slips deeper into her, and it’s electric. No one’s ever done this to Rey before, no one’s wanted to bring her pleasure without getting off in return. Pale’s so enthusiastic about it. Worshipful, even. It’s _otherworldly_. 

 

She’s helpless, moaning and wailing, saying things she can’t possibly mean. 

 

“Pale. Pale. Pale. I love, I— _oh my god_. You’re it, baby. Soooo good.”

 

Her cries motivate him, keep him going as she rocks her hips against his face. When Rey comes, Pale licks up every last drop. 

 

He pulls her up to sit with him, holds her close, and stares at the wall across from her bed.

 

“You sure like photos, huh?”

 

Rey follows his line of vision, reaches for him as he extracts himself from her arms and walks over to examine the wall more closely.

 

“They’re polaroid pictures,” Rey explains. "My favorite foster mom gave me the camera when I turned sixteen. Told me to take pictures of the things that made me smile, the moments I wanted to remember.”

 

There’s got to be over a hundred pictures pasted up on her wall. Rey stopped counting a while ago.

 

“Hmm.”

 

Pale moves back to the bed, leans down and gives her a wet and sloppy kiss.

 

“Figured as much this mornin’, but this only confirms it. You really are a sappy little sentimental one, aren’t ya?”

 

Rey pulls him back down with her.

 

“So what if I am?”

 

“You kept the kids menu,” he says instead of answering her.

 

Rey stops breathing.

 

“I saw it, layin’ over on the counter. Was gone when I got back. You hide it somewhere?”

 

She moves to bury her face in her pillow, embarrassed. 

 

Pale’s not having it. He jumps on top of her, locks her between his arms and begins to tickle her sides.

 

“What? You stuff it in the bottom of your closet? In some shoebox? A diary?”

 

Rey pretends to shove him away, attempts to hide her laughter. 

 

“Nope,” she insists, squirming and squealing.

 

Pale sits up and begins to remove his briefs. They’re Versace, she notices. Of course. 

 

“I’ll find it, baby. I know it’s here somewhere.”

 

Rey rolls her eyes before she pulls him down for a kiss. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You gotta phonebook?”

 

It takes Rey a second to process what he’s just asked. 

 

“Hmm? Oh, uh, yeah. I think. Under the kitchen sink, maybe?”

 

Pale gets up from bed and waddles out of her room, blinding her as he turns on the kitchen light. 

 

They’ve spent the entirety of the evening in bed, talking and fucking and laying together. Rey has never been so relaxed in her life.

 

“Here we go,” Pale yells from the other room. “Mr. Locks Security Systems. Open 24 hours. C’mon, let’s go.”

 

“What, you want us to go right now?”

 

“It’s already been broken too long,” Pale says as he approaches the bedroom.

 

“Need I remind you,” Rey starts, “that this is all your fault.”

 

“Hey, hey, hey.” He shakes his head. “It had to be done. I’m gonna fix it, alright. Now get up.”

 

Pale throws Rey over his shoulder.

 

“Agghh!” Rey screams, not anticipating the lift. “Okay, okay! Just put me down, I gotta pee.” 

 

Pale slaps Rey’s ass before setting her down on the toilet.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“So, here ya go,” the locksmith tells Rey as he holds out a set of three keys. 

 

“One for the building, one for the mailbox, and one for the apartment itself. They’re all labeled.”

 

“Thank you so much,” Rey says, taking the keys from him. She drops them into the plastic bag he gave her that contains her new lock and some installation tools.  

 

The man then turns to Pale. “And here’s yours.” 

 

“Oh, no—” Rey’s about to explain, tell the man that she only needs the one set, when Pale interrupts her.

 

“You’re a lifesaver, pal. Really.”

 

Pale grabs the second set of keys from the man, throws two fifties down on the table, and pushes Rey out the door.

 

“You know, he was gonna install the lock for me,” Rey says as the door closes. 

 

“Fuck that,” Pale insists. “I’m gonna install it for ya. Do a better job, anyway.”

 

Pale pulls her up in his arms and kisses her deep. 

 

“This your plan all along?” she asks against his lips, smiling. 

 

“Hmmm.” He doesn’t say anything, just kisses her forehead as he sets her down and reaches for something inside his leather jacket. 

 

“My camera?” Rey questions. 

 

“Well. Thought you might wanna take a picture, might wanna remember. Grabbed it when you were in the bathroom.” 

 

Rey’s stunned to silence. She wonders how much he snooped around, if he knows that the menu and his note are stuffed in the back of her underwear drawer. The camera was in her side table, not out in the open, after all. As if sensing her train of thought, Pale begins to backtrack.

 

“You know, I don’t know what I was thinkin’, we can just head ba—”

 

“No.” She cuts him off.

 

“No?”

 

“We can’t go. I have to take a picture first.”

 

Rey grabs her camera and positions it in front of their faces before kissing Pale on the cheek and pressing click. 

 

“One more, okay?”

 

“Yeah, okay. Whatever.” 

 

He’s trying to be nonchalant, Rey knows. But as she takes his photo, Rey can’t help but notice how smug he looks.   

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ever since Pale got his own key, he’s been over every night. 

 

God, does Rey love when he gets home from work. 

 

Sometimes he brings presents. The other day it was a bouquet of roses. Last night it was a new roll of film. 

 

But as much as she loves the domesticity of him coming home to her every night, Rey can’t help but find herself bored for the rest of the day. She’s never had this much free time. 

 

She picked up a few morning shifts at the diner, but those end mid-afternoon. A good five hours before Pale usually comes home.

 

So Rey’s had to turn to developing some new hobbies. 

 

She goes on walks around Central Park. She roams around Strand Bookstore, crouches behind shelves and devours mystery novels. One afternoon she even wanders through department stores and starts price checking bigger mattresses. She can only sleep pressed underneath Pale for so long, after all. He runs hotter than an oven.

 

But, when all is said and done, Rey’s forced to sit at home and wait for Pale to come back to her. 

 

There’s a lot of time for her mind to wander, for her to think about the whirlwind that has been the last few months. All this alone time has also caused one of Rey’s former hobbies to spring back to life.  

 

Rey sits, thinks about Pale, and touches herself. A lot. 

 

And how could she not? He’s everywhere. 

 

He’s all over her apartment, having monopolized her closet with his own suits and jackets. His baggy pants and expensive shoes that he complains pinch his feet.  

 

He’s in the fridge which he keeps stocked with his favorite foods. He’s in the bed that smells just like him. In the shower that contains both his shampoo and conditioner. In the side table that stores his cigarettes. 

 

Rey sees him everywhere, feels him everywhere, even smells him everywhere. If she closes her eyes she can just about picture him there with her. Her Pale. 

 

What a name that is. Pale. 

 

Rey’s known him as so many things. 

 

Before, she would hear Robbie speak of his favorite family member. His older brother Jimmy. 

 

Robbie’s Jimmy is her Pale, Rey now understands.  

 

Rey’s been hearing about Pale longer than she ever could have imagined, about the snarky, ferocious brother that Robbie looked up to. She doesn’t quite believe in fate, but what else could this be?   

 

Some day she will ask Pale why he dropped Jimmy. Some day, she will tell him of her yearning, of how she longed to know the name of the mystery man she locked eyes with on the street. 

 

How she named him Ben. 

 

How she spent a month pining for him, trying to get over this man she didn’t even know. 

 

She touched herself then like she touches herself now, longing to be filled by him in every definition of the word. Of her Ben, _Ben, Ben_ —

 

“You slut.”

 

Rey opens her eyes to find Pale above her, already shrugging his jacket off.

 

“Couldn’t wait a few minutes for me, huh?”

 

Rey swallows, breathless, taken aback. She was _so close_ to her orgasm. _So close._

 

“I—”

 

“Save it. Don’t wanna hear any excuses. Had a rough day, only thing that got me through it was knowin’ I got to come home to this pussy.” 

 

Rey starts unbuttoning his pants for him.

 

“You’re home now, baby. Finally. Missed you.”

 

Pale chuckles as he pulls down his underwear.

 

“Yeah, bet you did. The way you were rollin’ around naked on these sheets. You really think those little fingers could ever compare to me?”

 

He pushes her down on the bed, then. Envelops her in his arms.

 

“Never. Nothing’s ever as good as you.”

 

He kisses her as he pushes inside, and Rey feels whole again. 

 

“Mmmm. Perfect,” he breathes. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

 

Rey loves her job. So much. She can’t wait for these three weeks to be up so that she can go back to teaching dance all the time. 

 

But.

 

She would gladly give it up if it were possible to feel like this every minute of every day. 

 

What is that? Is that love? Rey can’t really make sense of anything right now.

 

She’s disoriented, thrown from how Pale disrupted her before, to how quickly she’s been sprung into complete bliss.  

 

 Pale’s whispering dirty nothings in her ear, pounding into her with a steady rhythm, when Rey moans, “Oh, ohmygod, _Ben.”_

 

Pale pulls out so fast it just about gives Rey whiplash.

 

He sits up on his knees, towers over her. 

 

“Who the _fuck_ is Ben?”

 

“Oh, baby, no—”

 

“Is it that fucker I saw walkin’ you home the other month, the one with all the curls and the fuckin’ Colgate smile? What, you think I didn’t see that? Hah. You fuckin’ him too? That’s _bullshit._ This is my fucking pussy. Mine. Who the fuck is this Ben, huh? Huh? Say my name. Pale. Say it. Say my fucking name.” 

 

Rey frantically leaps up to wrap herself around him, fastening her legs around his waist. She cradles his face between her hands, moves to thread her fingers through his hair.

 

“Oh _no._ No no no no. Pale, baby, that’s nothing. That’s only Poe.” 

 

This is clearly the wrong thing for Rey to say. 

 

“And who the _fuck_ is Poe? So now you’re goin around fuckin’ three guys? What the fuck did I just tell you? What do you not get? This—” 

 

He cups the entirety of her cunt in his massive palm.

 

“Is mine. This is my fuckin’ pussy.”      

 

“Pale. _Pale Pale Pale_ , baby. You. Only you. I promise.” She kisses every part of him, everywhere she can reach, his ears, his eyelids, his cheeks, his nose, before sliding her hand down to grab his throbbing length, fully intending to guide him back inside of her. 

 

He swats her away and she just about sobs. 

 

“Baby _listen._ Poe’s just some kid in my class. And, well, this is embarrassing. But...you’re Ben. That’s what I called you. You know, before. Back when I didn’t know your name.” 

 

She slides her hands down his chest. Touches him everywhere, feels him everywhere, kisses him everywhere, hoping to prove to him how it could only ever be him. 

 

“You expect me to believe —”

 

Rey pulls herself back up to meet him at eye level.  

 

“Where would I find the time to fuck anybody else,” Rey says sternly. He looks at her, serious now, like he’s beginning to believe her.   

 

“You know how all my extra time revolves around you.” 

 

He stares her down, as if attempting to read her mind. To see if she’s telling the truth. To see if her gaze wavers, to determine if she’s lying to him or not. 

 

It’s pointless. He’d know if she was. Rey’s a shit liar.    

 

“That’s right it fuckin’ does. You know what, _all_ your time should revolve around me,” he says after a minute.  “All of it. Fuck.”

 

He slams her back down on the bed, thrusting his entire body weight on top of her, caging her, allowing her only him. She can barely breathe and she loves it. All of her senses are overdriven by Pale.

 

He pushes back inside of her and they both groan.

 

“The only name you’re allowed to moan is mine. Got that?”

 

“Mhhhmmmm”

 

“What’s my name, baby?” He lifts off her slightly, allowing her the ability to form a proper sentence.

 

“Pale, you’re my Pale.”

 

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. What was that?” 

 

“Pale, _Pale, Pale, Pale, Paaaale._ This feels so good. You feel so good, baby thank you. Only you. Only Pale. _”_

 

“That’s right baby. Only me. Only ever me. This cunt is mine.” 

 

“Yours,” she whispers. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Later, after they’ve laid together for a couple hours, Rey feels Pale stir. She looks up to find him already staring at her.

 

“I just don’t know what I’d do if you decided you didn’t want me anymore,” Pale admits.

 

Rey cradles his face in her hands, shushes him, kisses him on the lips. 

 

“You don’t have to worry about that,” she insists.

 

And Rey finds that she means it. She really does. 

 

She looks around her room, thinks about how much space he takes up now. In her closet. In her bed. In her life.

 

Rey lays her head against his chest and finds that she likes it better this way. With him.

 

She cradles herself even closer, leans up to whisper in his ear.  

   

“You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone! I can't believe there's only one chapter left, I'll miss these two so much. If you liked this, make sure to let me know! It definitely motivates me to write faster. 💕


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

The early sun peeks through Rey’s window as she blinks her eyes open.

 

_Pale will have to leave soon_ , she realizes, watching her blinds cast shadows on the bed sheets.   

 

This is how it goes. She’s used to his routine, by now. Trained her body to wake up so she can kiss him goodbye.  

 

Pale stirs against her, begins to lightly trace patterns on her skin with his fingertips. The room is silent except for the rumblings of the apartment’s heating system creaking to life. This is standard for their mornings. Rey and Pale are always too tired or too invested in each other to waste any time on words. 

 

So, when Rey hears Pale clear his throat, she knows something must be up.

 

“Forecast calls for snow,” he mumbles incoherently against her shoulder. 

 

“Hmm?” Rey turns around to face him.

 

“It’s gonna snow,” he repeats.

 

“Oh. Really?”

 

“Supposed to.” 

 

Pale leans down for a kiss, and Rey thinks—not for the first time—that love might be tasting morning breath but pulling closer anyway.

 

_That word again._ Pale’s her first ever real something, sure. But love? How could Rey even know what that feels like? 

 

He breaks the kiss and begins to pepper tinier ones across her cheeks before sitting up. 

 

“Kinda puts a damper on my plans, but fuck it. I wanna take you out.”

 

“Huh?” 

 

“On a real date. Tonight.”  

 

“Oh,” Rey says, fiddling with her bedsheet. “Aren’t we kinda past that already?”

 

Pale scoffs. 

 

“What the fuck does that mean?” 

 

Rey shrugs her shoulders, not really sure herself. It’s only a feeling, after all. She could be wrong. 

 

But Rey _really_ doesn’t think she is. 

 

No other person she’s dated has moved all their clothes into her apartment after a month of seeing each other. God, even _thinking_ about any of those guys trying to do that has her blood curdling. 

  

She begins to scan the perimeter of her room, and Pale follows her line of vision. They focus in on his leather jacket hanging on the back of her desk chair. See all of his shoes lined up in a row against the wall, his nice Breitling watches resting on top of her side table. 

 

Her and Pale aren’t dating, Rey decides. No. This is something else.   

 

For a second, Pale falters. He blinks, climbs his way out of bed before slumping to the bathroom. 

 

He leaves the door open, Rey can tell by how loudly she hears the toilet flush. _Is that what they are now?_ She wonders. _People who feel comfortable peeing in front of each other?_

 

When he reenters, it’s with a toothbrush in hand and foam dripping out the side of his mouth. 

 

“Maybe we’re passed the dating stage,” he admits, standing there in nothing but his gold chain. He spends a moment staring through her soul before he ambles back to go spit. 

 

Rey falls against the bedsheets, wishing she had the courage to ask the things she’s been wondering. Wishing she knew what they are. What he wants them to be. She’s deep in thought when she feels the bed dip, feels his arms wrap around her.      

 

“You know what, no. _Fuck_ that.” 

 

She angles her face to meet his, sees his right eye twitch. 

 

“If I wanna take my girl out, I’m gonna take my girl out.”

 

And Rey, she doesn’t know what to say. Because although they’ve basically been living together for all of December, and dating seems so — less than whatever it is they are, they’ve actually never really talked about it. What they are to each other. Rey looks up at him, softly asks, “Your girl?”

 

Pale exhales, eyes stormy — incredulous, even, as he moves to cradle Rey’s face in his hands. 

 

“Yeah,” he says. “My girl. How could you even... _Rey._ You know. You gotta know, how could you not know—”

 

Rey shushes him, moves to kiss the palm of his hand before nuzzling closer to it.

 

“I do now. Your girl.”

 

Pale lifts her up in his arms and kisses her like his life depends on it, only breaking to whisper, “Mine.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You were wrong about the snow.”

 

“Yeah, well.”

 

Rey’s wearing a dress Pale’s never seen her in before, one he doesn’t want to let anyone else see. She looks incredible. It’s got short sleeves, though, and in this weather? That won’t cut it. 

 

“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” He says as he pulls her in his arms, kisses her on the head.

 

“What?”

 

“You’re about to get one of your Christmas gifts early. Holy fuck. You look good.”

 

He pulls a nicely wrapped gift box out from underneath her kitchen sink. 

 

“Pale,” Rey whispers, as she takes the box from him.

 

“Open it,” he insists. 

 

“So this has just been hiding here all day?”

 

“All week, honey. And there’s a hell of a lot more where that came from.”

 

Rey sighs, moves to kiss him on the lips. “I kinda forgot about Christmas, if I’m being honest. Haven’t gotten you anything yet.”

 

Pale shrugs.

 

“Well, don’t. Never grew up celebratin’ it anyway. Also, uh. There’s somethin’ I gotta tell you.”

 

Rey rips through the colorful paper and removes the box’s lid before lifting up a light pink peacoat. She spots the Louis Vuitton tag, and her eyes go wide.

 

“Pale. This is…”

 

“Somethin’ you’re gonna wear everyday.” He takes the garment from her hands and moves to slide it through her arms and on her body. “Finally. I’m gonna go throw your other one out, swear to god.”   

 

Rey turns around, gives him the eyes that he knows mean _this is too much._

 

“You needed it,” he shrugs. “I’ll always get you what you need.”

 

 A lone tear runs down Rey’s cheek. 

 

_Fuck,_ Pale thinks. Who was the last person to make her feel wanted? How long did she go without feeling like anyone cared? 

 

“You like it, right?” He asks. 

 

“Yeah. I like it.” She grins, sticks her hands in her new coat pockets. “Oh, what was it you wanted to tell me?”

 

Pale looks down at her and knows he can’t say it. He can’t ruin this moment. He wishes he had her camera right now. This is something he wants to remember. Her, happy, because of him. 

 

“It can wait.”  

 

“In that case,” Rey jumps up in his arms and positions her lips around his ear. “Bed. Now.” 

 

Sure, they have a dinner reservation. And, yes, he’s surprising her with tickets to the ballet. 

 

But there’s no way in hell Pale’s gonna say no.  

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I’ve always liked the second act better.”

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Yeah,” Rey says. “It has the best parts of the whole ballet.”

 

“Well, good. I’d say I’m sorry we missed the first half, but…” He smirks at her, squeezes her hand. “I’m not. At all.” 

 

Rey smiles, squeezes right back. 

 

“About that ending, though. Fuck.” 

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Well, I grew up studyin’ Tchaikovsky, can play The March in my sleep. But that fuckin’ ending. I can never tell if it was all real or whatever.”

 

Rey hesitates before she answers, moves to take a sip of her water. 

 

“I think that’s kind of the point,” she finally says. “They don’t answer anything, leave you to make it up for yourself.” 

 

The waiter comes with their food and breaks up the moment. He sets it all down before refilling Rey’s champagne and Pale’s scotch. Rey picks over her salmon as Pale slices up his New York strip. They’re both silent, preoccupied with their food, when, seemingly, out of nowhere, Pale drops his utensils.

 

“Well, what do you think?” He asks. “Do you think it really happened?”

 

“What, you mean in the show?”

 

Pale nods, and Rey scrunches up her nose. 

 

“I don’t know for sure. But, I like to think so. I like when Clara wishes for her magical night to never end. You remember what the Nutcracker says to her?”

 

“Kinda,” he starts. “Somethin’ bout knowing where to look?”

 

“Yup. He says, ‘It won’t for those who have an eye to see it.’ _I love that._ Always have. I don’t know. Maybe it was all just a dream. But I like to believe it was something more.”

 

“Hmm,” Pale wonders, going back to cutting up his steak. “Somethin’ more.”

 

Rey nods, knowing there’s no way Pale doesn’t have his own take on the ballet’s ambiguous ending. Sure enough, he clenches his jaw before he continues.   

 

“I always thought it symbolized a loss of innocence,” he says. “She wakes up on Christmas morning, and suddenly the magic is all gone. She’s just a girl lying underneath a tree with a broken toy.”

 

Rey’s never thought about it that way before. She ponders what he’s just said, continues to eat her salmon.

 

The restaurant Pale’s chosen is extremely nice and dimly lit. She can’t imagine the pull he must have in the industry to have scored this reservation. They’re seated far away from the other patrons, and close together, too. 

 

Close enough for Pale to slide his left hand down and rest it on her thigh, to squeeze it tight. 

 

“Baby,” she whispers, “what are you doing?”

 

“Nothin’,” he replies, continuing to eat his steak with his other hand. _This must have been why he cut it all up first,_ Rey realizes. 

 

“This doesn’t feel like nothing,” she breathes, as Pale works his fingers under her dress and into her underwear. 

 

“Oh, really? Well. What does it feel like?” He prompts.

 

Rey scoffs before Pale sinks a finger into her, and _oh._ Yeah. She wasn’t expecting that so soon. Guess they really are done talking about the ballet. 

 

“Always so wet for me,” he breathes out. “So fuckin’ wet. Always. How do you do that?”

 

Rey shakes her head, not trusting herself to say anything in fear she’ll let out a moan. When she doesn’t answer, Pale returns to his previous question.

 

“Rey. How’s it feel?” 

 

They balance each other out. Pale, the talkative one, usually succeeds in getting her to say how she feels. And Rey, well. She gets him to feel in the first place.  

 

“It— _uh_. It feels right,” she decides, trying her best to keep quiet. “But at the same time it feels like, uh. Well. It’s dumb.”

 

“How’s that? There’s no way,” he says, as he pushes another finger in.

 

“Well, _oof,_ okay.” She steadies her breaths before continuing. 

 

“It feels like fire. When you touch me, wherever you touch me, however you do it. It feels like you burn me up. In, like, the best way possible.”

 

Pale laughs, then. Loud. Really, really loud. 

 

“Hey!” Rey whisper-shouts. “See. I told you. Dumb. And shut up, you’re gonna draw attention.” 

 

Pale shushes her, kisses her forehead before he does the impossible and slides another one of his fingers inside of her. 

 

“No one’s lookin’. And no. No no no. It’s not dumb, baby. It’s not. I love—”

 

He catches himself, looks down at her writhing next to him.

 

“I love to hear whatever you gotta say.” 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I can’t believe it didn’t snow,” Rey whispers, tucked against Pale in bed. “Maybe it will later this week. A white Christmas or something.” 

 

“That’d be nice,” Pale mutters, staring out the window. He looks conflicted, miles away from wherever Rey is. 

 

“I’m already planning your gifts. Should we both open one early on Christmas Eve? Is that what people do?”   

 

Pale doesn’t respond, closes his eyes and rolls around to face her.

 

“Hey,” Rey starts, concerned. “Are you okay? Do you not wanna do Christmas? Because I know Hanukkah starts tomorrow, actually, and we can do it just like how it was when you were growing up—”

 

Pale takes Rey’s hands and pulls them up to his lips, silencing her. He kisses each individual finger before threading them through his own. 

 

“I won’t be here for Christmas,” he finally says.

 

Rey blinks, struggles to comprehend.

 

“The kids. She wants me to see the kids. Ya know, the whole fuckin’ family around the fireplace bullshit. I told her I would come months ago, but that was before...”

 

He tightens his grasp.

 

“That was before,” Rey whispers, understanding. She wills the tears she feels forming not to fall. “I get it.”

 

And she does, she really does get it. She gets it so much that it rings her heart and leaves it out to dry. They just had the most perfect night. They’ve had the most perfect month, actually. But none of that means anything, because he has a family. He has a family. He has a family. 

 

“Rey,” Pale says, already fearing the worst. “You’re my girl. You know that, right? You are everything.” 

 

Rey nods, and Pale exhales, draws her in close. Their hands are still intertwined, and, well. Rey can feel his wedding band. 

 

She lets her tears fall. 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s another normal morning, at first. 

 

Rey wakes with the sun, feels Pale stir against her.  

 

He’s leaving her today. Yes, he leaves her every day. That’s routine as usual. So far, he has always come back. But, now.

 

He’s not coming back tonight. She won’t get to hear the familiar turn of his key in the lock, won’t get to lay with him in bed until they fall asleep. She’ll be all alone.    

 

_It’s only for a few days_ , Rey reminds herself. Deep down she understands that he will eventually return. 

 

Rey bites her cuticles, spiraling.

 

If she’s being honest, she’s scared. Scared that time apart will cause whatever magic they’ve created to fade away, that Pale will wake up from whatever trance he’s in and realize that he doesn’t want this anymore. Her. 

 

Scared that she’ll be heartbroken. 

 

And, most of all, Rey’s scared of how dependent she’s become on another person.     

 

She doesn’t let herself rely on people in this way, knows the capability that they have to leave. So this is unprecedented, really. This thing she has with Pale. 

 

“C’mere,” he says suddenly, pulling her on top of him. It’s almost like he can read her mind, knows he has to silence all her doubts.

 

They’re naked, of course. Always. It’s like Pale has a toaster in his stomach, he runs so hot. 

 

They both know what they need, and Rey, well. She thinks about going days without this, without feeling him hot and pulsing inside her, without feeling whole.

 

She mounts him, then, determined to devour him up before he’s gone. She sets a hurried pace, moving like she has something to win. Something to prove. 

 

But Pale’s not having it. He takes her face in his hands and holds tight, stares right through her. Almost as if to say, _slow down. We’ve got time. This is the only mornin’ where we’ve ever really been able to slow the fuck down and just be. Let us just be._

 

So she does. 

 

She slows down, leans her forehead up against his. Pale moves his hands down to steady her hips, to help her along. 

 

This, whatever this is that they are doing, this isn’t fucking. This is something new. 

 

This is that word she never thought she’d let herself say, think. 

 

This, _well_. This is love. It has to be.

 

   

 

* * *

 

 

 

Three days. She only has to wait _three days._  

 

On her first day alone, Rey decides to try and make the best of it. She buttons up her new coat and heads out to Christmas-ify both her apartment and her life. 

 

She goes uptown, marvels at the festive window displays on 5th Avenue before gathering what she needs for Pale’s presents. She finishes that fairly quickly, and sooner rather than later Rey’s made it back to her neighborhood.

 

A couple blocks from home she passes a display of red poinsettias outside of a bodega. It entices her to shop around. She buys a bouquet of the winter flowers, along with some tinsel, a roll of wrapping paper, a carton of eggs, a gallon of milk, and a bag of those sticky-sugary-tiny-super-processed glazed doughnuts. 

 

_How is it,_ Rey wonders, _that all bodegas are stocked with every item known to man?_ _How do they always have what I need?_ The tinsel and wrapping paper are self explanatory. The eggs and milk, well. She was out of both. But the doughnuts. Rey can’t explain the sudden urge that possesses her to grab them from the shelf. 

 

Maybe, _just maybe_ , it’s because something inside her knew that she would need some comfort food. 

 

Hours later, that little something inside of her is proven right. 

 

Rey makes a valiant attempt at sleeping, but it’s no use. She tosses and turns in her sheets, all the while knowing there isn’t a single position that could ever match the feeling of being pressed underneath Pale’s body. 

 

After hours and hours and hours of trying but getting nowhere, Rey gets up and grabs the bag of tiny doughnuts. She slides back underneath her covers and pulls them over her head.  

 

Rey eats every single doughnut, leaving crusted glaze crumbs scattered all over her sheets and feeling sticky residue not only on her fingers, but in her heart, too.   

 

 

 

* * *

 

  

 

Rey’s first day alone blends into her second. 

 

She tries to get into the holiday spirit, but nothing helps. Not wrapping the gifts, not hanging the tinsel. Not displaying her poinsettias as if they were a Christmas tree, setting the vase on top of a spare kitchen chair and piling all the gifts underneath. She’s gotten Pale three presents. Ugh. Pale.

 

Even thinking his name hurts. 

 

She wonders how his visit is going. She wonders if he’ll call.

 

He knows her phone number. Rey doesn’t have an answering machine, but she has no plans to leave the apartment. There’s no way she would miss him.  

 

Rey lies on her bed and waits, waits for him to try and reach her, but he never does.

 

Hours later, Rey decides that maybe she should get some air. She moves to unlock her window, cranks it open and feels the chill on her sleeveless arms. Her coat. She needs to put on her new coat. 

 

Rey dashes over to her closet and pushes its door to the side, only to be welcomed by the sight of an unexpected garment. 

 

Pale’s leather jacket hangs right in the middle of the clothing rack. 

 

_He left it for me,_ Rey realizes.   

 

She slides it on, and, _oh_. It is the sweetest torture—to be able to close her eyes and imagine he is there, to be wrapped up in his scent. She freezes as she sits outside on her fire escape, watches her breath condense into tiny little clouds.

 

It’s not long before her second day alone rolls into the third. She shivers, wishes she was asleep. Now it's officially been two days without any rest, and she’s feeling the effects. 

 

Rey feels something cold and wet drip on top of her head. She looks up to find tiny snowflakes falling from the night sky.

 

_Well. There’s the snow that Pale was going on about,_ she thinks. _Only a few days late._

 

It’s Christmas Eve, and it’s snowing, and she is alone. Rey huffs a humorless laugh.  

 

Pale is in New Jersey, and she is sitting here, practically hanging off of her fire escape, longing to be with him. 

 

Rey sighs, wishes she’d left herself a few extra doughnuts. She contemplates trying one of Pale’s cigarettes, but that thought passes almost as quickly as it comes.

 

_God,_ Rey thinks. _Pull yourself together._

 

She’s had to deal with much worse. 

 

Don’t get her wrong, this situation really sucks. Her somewhat older maybe-boyfriend has just left her side for the first time in a month in order to go visit his wife and kids for Christmas. It _sucks_. 

 

But, it’s only bad right now because it was so good before. 

 

_I am lucky,_ Rey realizes, _that I have someone to miss. How fortunate I am for it to be this painful to be apart._

 

Rey stands, angles her head up to the sky, and sticks out her tongue. She’s decided to catch snowflakes. It’s something she can control. They melt almost as soon as they land in her mouth, both refreshing and also not enough. 

 

_This is something,_ Rey thinks. _This thing I have with Pale. It’s real. It is real to long for someone like this._ She takes one last look at her empty street before climbing back inside through her window. 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s a good thing Rey closed her window last night. 

 

She was finally able to catch some sleep, and for that, she is grateful. But, during her brief rest, New York City issued a blizzard warning. 

 

Now, as Rey stares out her window, she can barely recognize the street she knows so well. Everything is hidden behind thick snow that swirls densely in the harsh wind. 

 

It’s Christmas Day. Pale is suppose to come home tomorrow. How will he make it through this storm? She doubts that any cars will be allowed on the roads, unless it all miraculously melts overnight.

 

Rey cuddles further into Pale’s leather jacket, rubs her nose against the collar and breathes in his scent. 

 

This will probably mean more days without him, she realizes. How many? One, two? She doesn’t think she can take any more than that. She doesn’t think she can take any more of _this._

 

Rey pulls her legs up against her chest, rests her head against them, and starts to cry. 

 

She cries and she cries, alone on her bed, missing the only man she’s ever thought she could love.

 

As the minutes go by, Rey almost thinks she hears the all too familiar sound of a key turning in her lock. But that’s impossible. It has to be the heat turning on, or her brain tricking her, or some other cruel joke of the sort. 

 

_Wait_ , she thinks, _are those footsteps?_  

 

Rey lifts her head right as Pale storms through her bedroom door, and, _oh god,_ it’s instant bliss. 

 

“Pale?” 

 

Rey chokes, immediately leaping into his arms. She’s crying for an entirely new reason, now, as he drops his bag and pulls her in tight.    

 

“Rey. Baby. Never again. Never gonna leave you ever again. Never. Couldn’t take it.” 

 

Is he crying? She can’t tell, too busy kissing him everywhere she can, running her fingers through his hair.

 

It’s a mad rush to pull all of his clothes off, to feel his skin against hers. Rey’s just about naked, only wrapped up in his leather jacket. She throws it on the floor, body shaking as she gets in position, so desperate for him.

 

“How?” She manages to ask as he climbs on top of her.

 

“Left as soon as I heard the blizzard warning,” he says, prying her legs open even wider. “Drove through the night. They weren’t gonna let me back in the city, it was so bad. Shit, that highway patrol fucker. Tried to keep me from you, almost got himself a broken nose.”

 

Pale thrusts inside and they instantly moan, both finally back in the only place that has ever felt right. Rey gasps, pinches her face real tight as Pale fucks the air out of her lungs. It’s harder and faster than it’s ever been, a frantic chase. 

 

“Shit, you feel so fucking good. You are so good. You make me feel so good. You make me better,” he says, ruthlessly pounding into her. “I could live right here. Live right inside your pussy. Never wanna live without you.”

 

Rey’s crying again. Maybe she never stopped. 

 

“Live with me,” he says. “Move in with me. When’s the lease for this fucking shithole gonna expire? Know what, I don’t give a fuck. I’ll pay ‘em off, whatever I gotta do. I want you with me. Need you with me. Always.”

 

He hits the best spot, and all she can do is nod frantically, ecstatic. She digs her fingernails into his back and groans.  

 

“Shit, Rey. You mean that? You want that? You wanna move in with me? You wanna be my girl forever, huh? That’s what you are. My girl. Forever, now. You really want that?”

 

“ _Yes,”_ she just about screams. “Yes yes yes yes yes.”

 

His hips work her into the mattress as he smothers her, buries his face in her neck and rams his dick inside of her. 

 

“Pale, _I_ — _”_ Rey stutters, so incredibly blissed out. “I love you.”

 

He comes instantly, long hot ropes immediately shooting up inside of her.

 

“ _Fuuuuuuuuuuck,”_ he growls, squeezing his eyes shut. 

 

Rey comes then too, heart racing, exhausted and exhilarated. She’s just gone from the saddest she’s been in years to the happiest she’s been, well, _maybe ever_ , in a really short span of time. Nothing should make sense right now. It shouldn’t. And yet.

 

It does.

 

Nothing makes more sense than kissing Pale, than watching him angle her hips a certain way so that none of his cum can trickle out, than having him here with her, than having him be hers always. 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Hours later, just as unceremoniously as it started, the snow stops falling. 

 

Rey can hear people begin to plow the streets outside, can hear the sounds of her city coming back to life. 

 

They’re resting in between rounds when Pale pulls her close.

 

“I wanna go for a drive,” he says, kissing the delicate skin under her eyes. 

 

“Right now?” She asks. 

 

“Yeah. Right now.” 

 

She humors him, lets him dress her up all nice and warm, and follows him outside. They walk the block over to his building, leaving footprints behind in the freshly fallen snow. 

 

Rey waits in the building’s heated lobby before she sees Pale pull up on the side of the street, driving a motorcycle. 

 

“You’re kidding,” she says, as he passes her a helmet. 

 

“I’m really not.” 

 

So Rey fastens on the helmet and jumps on the back of his bike, wrapping her arms around his waist. She knows he would never do this if he wasn’t certain he could keep her safe.

 

The streets are deserted as they ride through the city, through the one place Rey has ever really been able to call home. She’s never seen it so empty. 

 

They ride and they ride until they reach the Brooklyn Bridge. 

 

It’s beautiful like this, all dusted with snow. Pale pulls over and unlatches Rey’s helmet, moves to lead her along the bridge’s pedestrian walkway.

 

They walk together, hand in hand, until they reach the center. They’re all alone, looking out at the skyline of the city. 

 

“I hated this place before I met you,” Pale says, pulling her back against his chest and resting his chin on top of her head. 

 

It’s quiet before Pale begins to hum. 

 

Rey laughs, recognizing the tune, and starts to sway against him. She’s not quite dancing, but Pale spins her around, anyway. He takes her hand in his, and they move together, dancing along to their song.

 

“Never had a partner before,” Rey jokes without thinking. She means a dance partner, and Pale knows that, but he leans down to kiss her anyway.

 

“ _Oh, oh, oh_ , I’m on fire,” he sings against her lips. It’s a little off pitch, but Rey doesn’t care. She smiles, leans against him. 

 

Pale drags them back over to the edge of the bridge, and, suddenly, the mood shifts. 

 

He grips the railing hard, takes a staggering breath and curses under his breath. He’s trying to steady himself, and Rey has no idea why he’s so stiff all of the sudden. 

 

“Pale?” Rey breathes. 

 

“I’m getting a divorce,” he says, simply.

 

Rey reacts, covers her face with her hand, and begins to cry.

 

“I’m all yours, Rey. For however long you’ll have me.”  

 

And, as if it’s nothing, Pale slips the wedding band off of his finger and throws it off the side of the Brooklyn Bridge, letting it splash into the East River. It’s gone. For good.

 

He turns to look at her, then. Reaches out for her hands. 

 

“I didn’t want this,” Pale starts. “Us.”

 

Rey chokes out a laugh.

 

“Neither did I.”

 

“But, now…” 

 

He looks at Rey, really looks at her, and it’s almost like he’s the only one who's ever really seen her.

 

“But now I can’t imagine life without it. Without you.”

 

“Well,” Rey breathes after a moment, smiling through all of her tears. “When did you become such a little sentimental sap, huh?” 

 

“Oh, shut up,” he teases with no real bite whatsoever. “You did this to me. And you love it, I know you do. You fuckin’ love it. You love _me._ I heard you say it.” 

 

Rey snorts, rests her head against his chest. She sighs, thinks about how fast she fell in love. Thinks about how it was something she never expected, something she wasn’t seeking out. Something she ran from, at first.  

 

She thinks about Robbie. Thinks about how wild it is that two broken people who just so happened to know and love him in their own different ways, who were both grieving him, found each other.

 

She thinks about the man holding her. The man who makes her feel seen, the man who makes her feel safe, the man who wants her as much as she wants him. And she smiles. 

 

“Yeah,” Rey mutters into his chest. “I guess I do. I really, really do.” 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end! I posted today in honor of the final performance of Burn This on Broadway. Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this, it truly means the world. If you liked this fic, make sure to let me know! So grateful for every single reader. ♥ Until next time!

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Tumblr!](https://reylonly.tumblr.com/)


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